Skinwalker
by CityOfFallenAshes
Summary: When a hunter who just so happens to also be a skinwalker joins up with the Winchesters, things go crazy. And not always in a necessarily bad way either...
1. Alex

**|October 13th, 2007|**

A soft hum left her slightly chapped lips as she tipped her chair back and sipped contently at her alcoholic drink. The red liquid tasted heavenly after a hard day, she decided as she she dropped her head back and closed her eyes. Her reddish blond hair, clipped up, tickled her shoulders as it came free of its bindings. She was sweating in her black leather jacket, not a good thing for a bar that seemed full of people today, but she ignored it.

Her job had been a difficult solo mission, one that normally would have required more than just her. But she was Alexandriana Montgomery, a.k.a. Alex, and she could do just about everything without help. She hated working with others. It meant that they were more likely to discover those secrets that she kept hidden deep within her mind but came out at the night to terrorize her...

The door, which was close by, opened and Alex gave a quiet moan. _More_ people? Honestly, there wasn't much more that the bar could hold. That and the more people in the bar meant that there were more people at risk for being taken. When she glanced over, however, she went still. These two were dressed in trim suits of black, a familiar look to one who came across feds often. But it was their faces that gave them away.

They weren't FBI, as they tried to explain, holding up bandages to the bartender of the moment. They were like her; they were hunters, into destroying the strange supernatural creatures that made things go bump in the night. No, it wasn't their badge or the fake names she heard them give. It was their faces. Both wore tired and stressed looks. They were on a job, and one that was proving to be difficult.

The bartender nodded, then suddenly said something and pointed towards her. Alex grimaced. Now they were being directed in her direction; she really wished she hadn't flirted with the guy when getting answers a few days beforehand. The shorter of the two turned to look at her immediately while the taller gave the man a quiet thanks before nudging his partner. The two made their way over, and Alex arched a curious eyebrow, letting her chair touch the floor and summoning a drawl that sharpened her accent. "Hullo there," she said, the British accent sharper than usual. "Can I help you bloody fools? You do realize it's not necessary to parade around in American feds' clothes when asking about gossip, yes?"

The one that seemed similar to a moose in her eyes furrowed his brow warily. "We're FBI, ma'am, and-"

"Oh, shut it," Alex retorted, pushing a lock of hair out of her face. She crossed her arms across her chest, taking comfort in the feeling of the invisible blade that was carefully lined along her forearm. "I recognize fellow hunters when I see them. What do you take me for? A bloody idiot?"

"...you're a hunter?" the other one said, examining her. He didn't seem to believe her for some reason or another; Alex had no idea why. Didn't they have women who hunted in America...?

"Yes," Alex answered, purposely slowly. "Are you daft? Do you need proof?" She rolled her eyes. "Just sit down and we can talk. I expect you're here for the ghost that was killing women who'd broken of engagements, yes? Lauren Maxon? I dealt with it already. No need for you to stay here." She paused, then extended her hand to shake. "Alex, by the way."

"I'm Sam Winchester," the moose-like one replied, enveloping her slim hand in his as he shook it. "This is my brother, Dean. And no, we're not after that ghost. Figured it had stopped already when we got here and heard about the cemetery being dug up."

Alex laughed, examining a nail for a moment before raising her icy blue eyes to meet Sam's darker ones. "That was me alright, broke a nail doing it. So if you're not here for a ghost, why are you here? There's no other monsters 'round here. No need to faff around. Might as well leave." Other hunters made her nervous; they were only that much closer to catching on what she used to her advantage but kept hidden from other hunters so that she wasn't slain like the monsters she hunted.

Dean spoke up finally, his voice gruff, and despite herself, Alex automatically liked it. She let her eyes drag up his body and gave a smug smile. He was sexy, she decided. More than sexy. But by the look in his eyes, a hunter that would kill her in an instant if he knew. "There's been sightings of a dog near every murder around this part of the states." He leaned closer, resting his elbows on the table. "You know anything?"

Alex's smile vanished. Did she know anything of this dog? Of course she did.

It was her.

Of course, they couldn't know that. Could they? They didn't, she was certain of it...she'd be dead by now if they knew. Nonetheless, her eyes went cold and her hand wrapped around the hilt of the hidden blade. Dean's eyes followed her movement and became suspicious. "No," she lied. "Do you have an article?" Sam slid her a clip from his pocket and she studied the piece of newspaper he'd cut out. "The dog's been in a couple pictures that ended up being victims of my kills recently," she said nonchalantly. _More like all of them..._ "Why are you looking for it? Looks harmless enough. It doesn't look like it was ever the one to kill anything..."

"It wasn't," Sam admitted, "We think it's connected though. We want to check it out, that's all."

"You're sure you don't know anything?" Dean glared at her and Sam pinched the bridge of his nose with a small frustrated sigh, as if irritated with his brother's attitude.

Alex met his glare with one of her own. "Yes, I'm sure. Now sod off, you bloody bastard," she said, seething. She didn't mind Sam, he was okay. He was nice and polite. This jerk though? She wanted to smash his head in.

"I think you're lying," Dean replied, earning a groan from Sam and a tensed look from Alex. There went his sexiness. His green eyes gleamed and Alex found herself throwing her arms in the air, exasperated.

"Why?! I didn't do anything to make you suspicious!" Except for getting defensive...

"Ignore him," Sam sighed, shoving Dean hard enough that he almost fell out of the chair he was sitting on. "Dean, go get us some drinks or something, I'll talk with her." Dean scowled at both of them, then stood and went to fetch some beer, something he desperately wanted after the past few weeks that he and Sam had had. "Sorry about him," Sam muttered.

"Huh," Alex grumbled back, looking more than just a little bit ruffled. "Bloody bastard is what he is. How the hell do you stay around him?"

Sam pursed his lips. "We've been through a lot together. It's kind of complicated." He quickly changed the subject and Alex found herself curious. Perhaps these two had as much to their story as she had to hers... "Did you see this dog when you were dealing with your last job?"

"No," Alex answered slowly, cautiously. _Yes. Needed to see if a demon was involved and couldn't smell good enough in this form..._ "Why are you hunting the dog though? Seriously, it didn't do anything. It's just...constantly there."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "You're not concerned that wherever there's a monster, there's a dog?"

"Not really," she muttered. "It's just a dog."

"And the same friggin' dog shows up everywhere that the victim of a werewolf or shapeshifter or demon." Dean was back already, slamming a beer down in front of his brother with a dark look on his face. "I'm telling you Sammy, she's lying." He met Alex's gaze again. "Spoke to a friend of ours. Said she's been at every single place the dog has been. Including the other day. So, sweetheart, got somethin' you want to tell us?"

_Damn it,_ Alex thought, her hand tightly grasping the hilt of the invisible blade that lined her arm. A faked sweet smile crossed her face, and her eyes grew stony. "Why don't we take this outside? I'm sure we can come to an understanding that doesn't end up with any of us dead."

Dean's hand went around to where Alex had no doubt a gun was hidden. Possibly with the bullets needed to kill her. Sam stopped him though, instead forcing a smile onto his face as he stood. Dean grabbed his beer and chugged it quickly before turning to leave. "Let's go then. Don't have time to waste right now."

Alex waited until they were outside and had rounded a corner to a back ally before finally jerking the hidden blade free from its hiding place. The pitch black metal of the small forearm-length blade shimmered into view, the black hilt lighting up the darkness of the evening with glowing red symbols that none of them could read. Her eyes gave off a deadly look as Dean automatically went for his gun again. "Pull that trigger," she hissed, "And you're killing an innocent."

"Get talking then," Dean growled back, "I'm not feeling very patient tonight."

"Dean," Sam warned, then said, "What's going on here?"

Alex hesitated for a brief moment then shrugged. Her secret had already been figured out... "I'm a skinwalker," she said after clearing her throat. "S'why I've been everywhere that the dog has. We have stronger senses in this form," she waved at herself, "but even better in our other. I use it to figure out what I'm hunting so I can always be prepared."

"Skinwalkers killing monsters and others of its kind?" Dean snorted. "Yeah, right."

Alex whirled on him with a furious look. "Oh, sod off you bloody twat!" Dean paused, looking a bit confused at the terms she used, and she rolled her eyes. "You think I _want_ this life? I've got my reasons, just like you've got reasons for being a hunter. You listen to me, Dean and Sam Winchester. I lost my entire family the night that prat of a skinwalker broke in and killed all of them." She shoved her shirt up just enough to show heavy bits of ragged scaring along her stomach, then pushed her shirt back down. "It was just getting to me when a hunter came and killed it dead. He taught me all he knew before he was taken down by the demons." She adjusted her black leather jacket, zipping it up. "Yeah, I'm a skinwalker. But I use it to save lives, not destroy them."

Dean and Sam exchanged looks before Sam quietly questioned, "What's with the blade?"

"This?" Alex lifted the sword to eye level then shrugged. "I don't know. I found it on the side of the road somewhere back in my home country. It was cool looking, so I kept it. Turns out it can kill anything and everything, so that's a bonus. Now. Are you done questioning me? Because I've got the other half of the country to help."

Dean waited a moment before lowering his gun. "...you ever bite anyone?"

Alex blinked. "...no," she answered warily. "Never anyone human, anyways. If they try to kill me, yeah. There was a demon that abandoned its host after I'd bit the poor girl, though." Her gaze darkened. "I couldn't save her though. She was maybe ten years old at the most. I was a fool then, though."

Sam shook his head. "That's not your fault. Trust me. We've done worse."

"And you're accusing me of murder," Alex murmured, amused. Deciding she was safe enough, she held out her forearm, lining the blade up until it shimmered back out of sight. "Well, since we're done here...may I go?"

"Yeah, but hold on a sec. You gotta phone?" Alex nodded, handing it over with a look of confusion as Sam began to type something in. "Our numbers," he explained as he handed it back. "If you need anything. We'll help."

Alex examined her contacts list. "Huh, got quite a few there." Sam grinned in response and she returned the smile. No, Sam wasn't bad. She wouldn't turn her back on Dean, though. Mr. I'm-So-Grumpy-I'm-No-Longer-Sexy was scowling at his brother. She turned to leave. "I hopefully won't be seeing you around. Bye."

"Hey."

Dean's voice had her pausing to glance over her shoulder. She met his green eyes warily. "Yes?" she replied.

"We catch you killing anyone, you're next on our hit list."

"Yes, I'm well aware of that, you prat," Alex muttered, rolling her eyes. Then she ducked out of the alley, breathing out a relieved sigh when she stopped just around the corner. She'd made it through someone finding out about her secret. _Alive._

Yep. She was going to celebrate with some pie. Pie seemed like a good way to celebrate this moment.

* * *

><p><strong>|October 30th, 2007|<strong>

Alex ducked around the corner with a small gasp, wincing as she paused to examine the wound on her arm. Blood trickled from a nasty gash that had been made by a particularly nasty attack from a vampire. She'd made the mistake of taking on a vampire clan alone...and she was seriously regretting it now. She had a total of five of them after her at the moment due to accidentally waking one. An alarm later and here she was, hiding behind a corner, her black blade out and ready in one hand and a second regular machete in the other.

Alex sucked in a breath when she heard noise. Footsteps filled her ear and then there was quite suddenly the muzzle of a gun pressed against her head. She reacted immediately, going for her attacker's neck with one of two blades and she just barely managed to nick them before a gunshot went off. Pain flared through her shoulder where she'd been shot, making her hiss, and a pair of hands grasped her wrists, making her drop the blades and pinning her to the wall. "Son of a _bitch_!"

She'd know that sexy voice anywhere. "Dean," she mused, then didn't hesitate to raise her knee and deliver a sharp jab to his side. He grunted, releasing her and Alex clutched her shoulder, scooping up her weapons in the inured side's hand. "What the bloody hell? You shot me!"

"You scared the hell out of me," he accused gruffly, though he looked a little bit guilty about it. "What are you doing here?"

"Same as you, I take it," she muttered, "I'm hunting some vamps. Where's Sam?"  
>"Somewhere around here." Dean tossed his own machete into his other hand. "You know how many we're up against?"<p>

"At least five," Alex admitted. Something hissed behind her and she whipped around, cursing under her breath when she couldn't raise her injured arm. "Let me guess, silver bullets," she huffed, shifting her strange blade to her left hand and attempting to lash out with it. She was too slow, however and the vampire was on her in an instant. She was infinitely grateful when Dean saved her from more pain when he slammed his machete through its neck. "Thanks."

"Come on," he said without another look towards her, grabbing her by the arm and tugging her forward. Alex winced, but forced herself to ignore the pain and followed him after shaking his grip off. "Sammy!" he shouted as they made their way back inside the house that the vampires had nested in. "Sam!"

No response.

"Well that's not good," Alex murmured, tightening her grip Dean gave her a sarcastic look that resulted in her sticking her tongue out at him. "Move, sexy guy, we've got a bloody idiot to find." She ducked past him, peeking around a corner then jerking back. "Another one," she breathed. Dean gave a curt nod and readied his machete.

Alex held up her bad arm's hand, raising one finger at a time. On three, she threw herself around the corner, her form shifting smoothly into that of a canine's. She snarled, latching her jaws on the vampire's arm as it screamed, dragging it to the ground. Dean jumped into action, swinging the machete at full force so that the vampire's head was soon rolling along the ground.

Alex whimpered, twisting her head to lightly lick her bullet wound before letting her form change again. Despite the vampire problem they were dealing with, an appreciative grin spread across his face, eyes roving her nude form. "Oh, put your eyes back in your bloody head," she snapped, hurrying to tug her clothes back on. The _one_ downside to being a skinwalker...your clothes came off when your human form did.

Dean merely winked. Alex rolled her eyes. Of _course_ the way to get the guy to trust her was to let him see her naked... Standing, she shoved him aside and headed towards a set of stairs. "You owe me a drink for that, Winchester."

He looked ready to reply, but was stopped by a groan coming from a pile of smashed wood. His smile vanished and he hurried over, dropping down beside a slowly coming-to Sam. Alex moved after him, keeping an eye out for the other vampires that had yet to come. "Sam," Dean said sharply, smacking Sam's cheek a few times to get him to wake up.

Sam blinked open his eyes, looking a bit dazed. "Dean," he rasped in response to show he was awake, and then frowned when he realized they had another person with them. "Alex?"

"Nice to see you, too, moose man," Alex retorted, "Let's go. Got three more to go."

Between she and Dean, they managed to haul the big guy onto his feet. Alex unsheathed a normal dagger from a thigh sheathe and pushed it into his hand. "Here, use this if you need it. You don't look too good though, so let me and Dean handle the hard work."

"Do you think we can't handle something like this?" Dean demanded. This earned him a nearly flirtatious smile from Alex, who shrugged her good shoulder.

"Pretty sure you ca- shite!" Alex was slammed into at full force, sending her flying into a set of older shelves that snapped beneath her weight. She lay there stunned for a second, then found herself struggling beneath a female vampire that showed off lots of pointy teeth. Alex gasped, kicking her as hard as she could in the gut to get her off. Sam and Dean were rolling around with the other two that had simultaneously ambushed them, Sam still half-dazed to the point that the vampire's teeth were moments from latching onto his neck.

Desperate, Alex grabbed the other woman's head and expertly jerked it forward, bringing her knee up at the same time. The vampire screeched, rearing back with a snarl, and Alex took the chance to lunge, swiping with her blade. The vampire's head went flying as her body slumped forward onto her. Cursing, Alex flailed to free herself. It was silent, and Alex felt a brief flash of relief when the body was hauled off of her by Sam. "Thanks," she muttered, shoving herself to her feet.

Sam smiled tightly. "Sure," he answered easily, helping her to her feet, somehow managing not to stagger when a wave of dizziness passed through him. Alex brushed herself off, irritated when she realized there were splinters all over her body. "Great," she said sarcastically, "First I get shot and now this. You guys are just buckets of bloody fun, aren't you?"

"You were shot?" Sam looked honestly confused. "How'd you manage that?"

"Your brother," Alex retorted, shooting Dean a pointed look. She grimaced. "And I think it was a silver bullet, too. Thanks a ton, Winchester."

Dean glared for a moment before muttering, "I'm going to get Baby. Make sure she doesn't go anywhere."

Sam raised an eyebrow as Dean left to fetch the car. "You're coming with us?"

"Apparently," the British skinwalker sighed, rolling her eyes. "Don't want to admit it, but I could use some...assistance with the bullet wound and the splinters."

"Sorry about that," Sam said with a wince, rubbing his own injured head. "Dean's a little trigger happy..."

"A little?"

"Hey! We gonna sit around and gossip like a bunch of girls or are we leaving?" Dean's shout caught their attention and both glanced out the door he'd left to where Dean was waiting in a slick looking black car. Alex gave a low whistle, immediately jealous of the '67 Chevy Impala. _That_ was a car even she would steal and keep.

Alex decided then and there that she was sticking around, whether they wanted her to or not. But just for the car. It wasn't like they'd managed to impress her or anything...

* * *

><p><strong>(AN)**

***wails* I really love writing fanfiction for Supernatural but I can't seem to get it right...nevertheless, this is the best I've written for it. Thoughts? And...season 10, am I right? Anyone else going bezerk over it, too?**

***This begins between Season 3 Episode 4 and Season 3 Episode 5  
><strong>


	2. Basement Witch

**|November 10th, 2008|**

Feet propped up on a bed, Alex lay in a comfortable position with her back flat on the ground. Her eyes shone with boredom, and she suddenly tilted her head back to look at Sam, who was leaned over a laptop at the small table in the motel room, typing away for information on whatever monster they were looking for. "I don't know why you two didn't let me go with Dean. My nose can pick up a lot more than his can."

"It's not because we didn't let you," Sam retorted. "It's because you wouldn't get up in the small time window we had to go to the crime scene." Alex stuck her tongue out at him in response, before rolling onto her stomach, removing her feet from the bed she used. Shoving herself to her feet, she walked over, straightening her tank top as she peered over his shoulder at the computer screen. "Nothing yet," he admitted at her questioning look. "I'm guessing demon though. We did smell sulpher in the area."

"Doesn't mean it's completely demon, though. I've known others of supernatural lifestyles to get possessed by demons," Alex replied darkly. She ran her fingers through her hair with a small yawn.

It had been two weeks since she'd joined up with the Winchesters. She'd gotten her shoulder and other wounds patched up alongside them, then had announced she was sticking with them. Sam hadn't seemed to mind too much. Dean, on the other hand, had downright refused to acknowledge her presence until a few days prior, when she'd figured out one of the many things they'd hunted recently. The ghost hadn't been too happy when they'd burned its bones, that was for sure. She had a scar from a nasty piece of glass she had fallen on. Though still irritated, Dean had accepted her as much as he was going to- by letting her in the front seat of the lovely Impala, something which they both adored, though Alex didn't dare ask to drive it. After an...interesting session with a thief Alex had learned to know as Bela, she couldn't blame the two for mistrusting the British.

"Gimme," Alex demanded, holding her hands out for the laptop. Sam was reluctant for a moment, then slid it over after she'd sat in the chair opposite of him. She popped her knuckles, then grinned at him and began to type furiously, glancing occasionally at the information Sam had compiled. Finally, she tilted her chair back, smug. "Looks like we're dealing with something like a succubus. We just need whatever Dean found out to confirm it. Jeez, you too faff around too much on details." She made a face.

"What if it's not a succubus though?" Sam protested. "Could be something else. And just what does "faff around" mean exactly?"

Alex contemplated that question for a few brief seconds before shrugging. "Messing around, as you Americans say. "If it isn't a succubus, then we go back to researching," she added, "Now look. You have free time to read a book like you always want to do." She smirked at Sam's sigh, then glanced up when the door suddenly opened. Dean strode in, removing the tie that had been around his neck as he did so.

"Son of a _bitch_, that was messy," he muttered. Alex was looking expectantly at him as he added, "Chunks everywhere. Walls, windows, doors, floor, furniture, _everywhere_."

"So...not a succubus," Alex muttered with a disappointed look, her hopeful look vanishing. She'd been looking forward to being proven correct again. Kicking lightly at Sam under the table when he snickered, she glanced questioningly at Dean. "So what do you think it is then?"

Dean dug something out of his pocket and held it up. A hex bag. "Great," he muttered, tossing it at Sam. "Witches. Just what we wanted. Sam, burn that thing." Sam rolled his eyes, pulling out a lighter, and Dean turned on Alex. "They any different in England?"

"Nope," Alex said firmly. "Just as bad as they are here." She stroked a hand down the inside of her arm, the blade rippling momentarily into view. "Well?" she said, standing, "Let's get looking to see if we can find what we need to. The witch should have left at least some little bit of trail, yes?" She settled down to research the relations between the victims, humming under her breath. But Sam snatched the laptop away from her, and she pouted, kicking at him again.

"You two go speak to the families," Sam told Dean and Alex, "I'll use _my_ laptop."

Alex gave him the evil eye. "You're going to be sharing that thing someday, Sam. It's only a matter of time."

"So you think," Sam muttered back, earning a giggle from the skinwalker.

"Alright," Alex said, popping her knuckles as she turned hopefully to Dean. "Let's go talk to those families. I'll keep my nose on high alert for any scents that match up while we're at each place, so let's get moving." She playfully swatted at Dean, who shot her a look, then followed him out to the Impala with a wave over her shoulder at Sam. Out of the two, Sam was the one who was most friendly towards her. Dean seemed to tolerate her just barely, looking more like he wanted to smack the hell out of her most of the time.

Laughing to herself, Alex easily swung into the Impala. Dean had a gun tucked away at the small of his back. She didn't need to bother with worrying about trying to conceal a weapon. It concealed itself for her. She smiled to herself, buckling her seat belt as Dean slid into the driver's seat. "Was there anything weird about the witch's work?"

"No," Dean replied, shaking his head. He pursed his lips. "Nothing new or different. Just filthy witch work." Alex's lips quirked up at the disgust in his tone. He was a clean freak, eh? Amused, she grinned and Dean gave her a look and said, "No comment, Alex. They're gross. I don't do gross."

"Germaphobe," Alex coughed into her hand before smiling innocently, batting her eyelashes. He glared at her for a moment before cracking a grin, the first towards her that she could remember so far. It worried her slightly. Blue eyes narrowing, she warned, "You better not be remembering what I think you're remembering, Winchester. I'll kill you if you are."

He smirked. "Can't help it now. You brought it up."

She scowled, smacking the back of his head. "Don't piss the skinwalker off, you bloody fool."

It only took them a few minutes to reach the first victim's house. A woman had been found dead with evenly placed horizontal gashes down her back. "We didn't look for a hex bag," Alex said thoughtfully, "I'll hunt it down if you want to question the family and friends that are here." She tapped her nose. "Hex bags have a certain smell, like dead things and herbs. Should be easy enough."

"And if that...smell can't be pinpointed?" Dean demanded, glancing over at her as he parked the Impala in a drive way. They climbed out as Alex answered his question.

A smug smirk met his gaze, ice blue eyes gleaming proudly. "Nothing can escape my senses, Winchester. I know _exactly_ where a scent comes from. The problem will be me needing to use my other form." She pulled her lips back, revealing her other form's teeth for a moment. Then she let them return to her perfectly white teeth. "Make sure they don't come upstairs, please. If you have to, use your sexy looks to seduce one of them women into fainting. Or don't seduce them, either way they'll pass out after one look at your face." His jaw dropped and she grinned, patting his cheek before heading for the door, hyper aware of his proximity when he moved to stand behind her.

Seconds after they'd rung the doorbell, a teary-eyed woman appeared, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. She Squinted at them for a second. "C-can I help you?"

Dean reached into his jacket and pulled out his fake FBI badge and held it up so that she could see. "We're from the FBI, came here to investigate Maria Johnson's death," Dean reported. Alex glanced down at herself, realizing she didn't look too fancy. She was in her usual outfit: a pair of jeans, a tank top, and her leather jacket. Shrugging, she pulled out her own badge, a recently forged one that Sam had ready for her, and showed it to the woman.

She looked a little confused. "Th-the FBI has already-"

"Final checkup on the place," Dean lied smoothly. Alex forced herself to smile reassuringly at the wary woman, who obviously wasn't sure she trusted them.

"We just want to ask a few final questions and give the place one more look. Then you'll be left alone to mourn as you wish," Alex soothed, tilting her head and fluttering her eyelashes innocently.

"...come in," she said with a sorrowful sigh. "Just...could you please be quick about it?"

"My partner here will take a look upstairs while I ask the questions," Dean told her, nudging Alex into the house when she didn't move fast enough for his liking. She elbowed him harshly in the ribs in her irritation, making him grunt, and she smiled smugly. But the smile vanished when he silently tripped her, nearly making her fall flat on her face.

"Bloody bastard," she hissed, glaring at him.

"Alex," he replied under his breath, then pushed her lightly towards the stairs. "Make yourself useful and find the hex bag."

Alex rolled her eyes and disappeared up the stairs. Dean began to question the woman who had been their dead victim's mother. Alex waited a few seconds, then slipped into the room. After making sure nobody was home, she let her humanoid form drop and become her canine one. She stretched her muscles, hearing bones finish popping into place as she yawned, and then set to work on hunting down the hex bag.

Her tail wagged unintentionally behind her as she lowered her nose to the floor, wrinkling it at the familiar scent of blood. Ignoring it in favor of following the trail of death and herbs to a pillow, Alex paused, ears pricking when there were footsteps. But they simply stopped in the room beside the one she was in, and she quickly finished up, grabbing the hex bag out of the pillow lightly with her jaws and returning to a humanoid shape. She rushed to tug on her clothes, stuffing the hex bag in her pocket just in time for the woman to enter with Dean close behind, a look on his face that said she had better be ready to leave.

"I want you out," the woman demanded firmly, glaring angrily at Alex. "Now."

"We're leaving, we're leaving," Alex reassured, raising an eyebrow at Dean. "What'd you say?" she hissed under her breath as they left the house, ducking out the front door and both cringing when it was slammed behind them.

"Nothing," he muttered, "Just made a joke she didn't like."

"Jerk," Alex sighed, then dug in her pocket. She held the hex bag out in front of her. "At least I got what we needed. You guys nearly caught me in the wrong form though. You need to learn not to tell bad jokes, Winchester. They're really not funny."

Dean eyed the hex bag as they wandered over to the Impala. "I'm hilarious," he huffed, unlocking the car though not climbing in when Alex rested her elbows on the top of it. He copied her on the opposite side of it, watching as she let the dark blade shimmer into view. "What is that thing, anyways?" he demanded suddenly.

She shrugged. "Dunno. Like I've said before, stupid, I found it on the side of a road back home." Curious, she held the hex bag up with the very tips of her fingers and then prodded it with her blade. Instantly, it went up in flames and Alex cursed in surprise, dropping it to avoid being seared.

Dean gave a low whistle. "Remind me to not get pricked by that pork sticker."

Alex shook her head in exasperation at his not-funny comment, then put away her blade, swinging herself comfortably into the Impala. "Bloody idiot," she accused as he followed suit and started the car. He merely smugly smiled at her. They started off for the next victim's home, both falling silent to listen to the older music that Dean decided to crank up. Naturally, Alex sang along to herself, voice soft and making it sound almost like a lullaby despite the instrumental parts.

Three houses and an apartment later, they tiredly made their way back into the motel room. Sam was gone, and Alex exchanged a wistful look with Dean. "Dinner?" she said hopefully, waving around the lack of Sam in the room.

"Better be where he's gone," Dean mumbled with a yawn, falling face down onto a bed, still wearing a fairly rumpled suit. Amused, Alex drifted over to where the younger Winchester had left his laptop open. Within seconds, she'd hacked into it, easily bypassing his password and snickering as she did so. He really needed to change it and make it more difficult to figure out...

A good half-hour or so later, Sam walked in to see Dean napping face down on a bed and Alex furiously typing away on his laptop with a nearly evil smile on her face. Frowning, he slammed the food he'd brought down hard on the little table, shaking it and making Dean jump awake with a gun at the ready. Alex frowned at the small pistol that was trained on Sam. "Dean," she chided playfully, "it's not nice to shoot the skinwalker, let alone your own brother when he brought you food."

Giving her a dirty look, he shuffled over, waiting until Sam had handed over his burger before suddenly closing the laptop sharply. "Don't break that, Dean," Sam muttered darkly. Dean ignored him and tore into his burger. "Anything?"

"Every place we checked had hex bags," Alex reported. "You find out anything we can use while we were out doing the hard work?"

"Yep," Sam said, popping a fry into his mouth. "All connected to one person: Karyssa Dare. And get this. Lady lives like the witches do in the stories; she stays in a rickety old place up in the nearby woods."

"Not creepy at all," Dean commented around his food. With the last bite, he swept any remaining crumbs from his hands. Alex stole a fry from Sam, earning a playful glare, and then nodded her agreement. She didn't like such old places. It wasn't often that old abandoned buildings held good things. Not once in her years as a hunter had she walked out of an old building without killing something.

"So we going to check this out?" Sam asked when Dean went back to the bed and fell back onto it.

"After sleep," Dean said, voice muffled by blankets.

Alex rolled her eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>|A Few Hours Later...|<strong>

Muttering under his breath, Dean slunk around the back of the old cabin, making sure his head didn't pop over the windows just in case he was seen. He kept a sharp ear out for any sign of fighting, having already decided that he'd go running to help if Sam ended up in a fight. Alex...he may have been more than just a little bit tempted to leave to the witch in the cabin.

It wasn't necessarily that he hated her. He disliked her at the moment (she'd come close to scratching his car), but disliking someone wasn't hatred. And he couldn't find it in himself to attempt to get close to anyone anymore. Not when he was destined for Hell within a few months, forced to leave his family behind. Maybe Sam would finally have the normal life he wanted after Dean was gone. Not with Alex, naturally. The skinwalker and his brother? He wanted to gag at the thought of it. The two were acting too much like siblings at the moment to get even close to that.

Dean's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door opening and closing, and within seconds he found himself face to face with a fairly pissed off looking elderly woman. her hair had been tied away from her sharp features, her eyes gleaming angrily. but other than that, she looked harmless...until you put her in front of a altar with the disgusting supplies witches used to cast their spells. He instantly raised his gun, but with a sharp jab to his wrist, the gun was clattering to the ground.

"Son of a _bitch_," Dean snarled as he shook his hand out. The appendage had gone numb thanks to the witch's carefully aimed elbow.

The witch rolled her eyes, then pointed towards the cabin. "In you go, young man, your siblings are already inside waiting on you. They'll be glad to let you know that I am _not_ the witch you young ones are lookin' for. I'll gladly let ya have that one though."

Dean's jaw dropped for a split second before clicking shut. "The hell you talking about, lady?" She glared furiously and he threw his hands in the air before snatching up his gun. "Okay, okay! I'm going inside already, see?"

The witch followed him into the building, and then to a surprisingly lavished dining room, where an equally surprised looking Alex and Sam waited. Alex had her fingers dancing nervously along the inside of her arm, where her blade was no undoubtedly hidden. Sam, however, found himself weaponless, and was staring intently at Dean. Dean shook his head; he was no longer armed, too. Alex rolled her eyes at the boys' uselessness.

"I suppose," the elderly witch muttered, hobbling her way across the room and glaring at Dean until he finally sat down beside Sam. Sam pinched the bridge of his nose with a look of exasperation and Dean sighed in response. Only they would be unarmed in the house of a witch. "That you are looking for the murderer of those poor girls?"

"Who wouldn't be you?" Alex said sharply immediately. Icy blue eyes became even colder. "Give us one reason we shouldn't kill you. You're a connection between all of them, along with the hex bags."

Dean had to give the girl credit. She was quick witted.

"I didn't make those hex bags," the witch replied. "We may as well start at the beginning. I'm Amelia. I am one of two witches in this town. It isn't me, but the other you're looking for. We were good friends once, when I was younger and preferred the darkness over the light. She was okay until the other day, when she cursed her daughter to death."

"Maria," Sam murmured, "She was the first one to be cursed."

Amelia nodded. "Yes, Maria was her daughter. A good girl, young. Only forty three. But, nonetheless, her mother killed her."

Alex's mind went back to the tearful mother, and Dean's must have, too, because he said gruffly, "Charming lady. Can't _wait_ to meet her again."

Amelia's lips quirked up at his tone of voice. "Ah, but you won't be seeing her again. No doubt after discovering the hunters lurking around her house, especially the skinwalking one, she will have fled to a safer location."

The glare she received from Amelia made Alex growl, a sound she could accomplish even in this form. "It's not my fault we suck at pinpointing the exact location of hex bags, okay? I had to find it. I don't get how she saw what I was though..."

"No doubt she had sensors up that would alert her if someone used some kind of ability other than her own," Amelia mumbled.

"Great," Alex said with a pout. "And there's nothing you can do to help us? Like, use your witchy abilities to get us where we need to be or find her again?"

Amelia's eyes flashed angrily. "Don't go around demanding things of me, Alexandriana Montgomery. I do not approve of such things. You wouldn't want your little...secret getting out, now would you?" Alex's mouth snapped shut and her face paled. Dean's gaze shot to her with wariness while Sam merely arched an eyebrow curiously at her.

Uncomfortable, Alex seemed to hunker down into her seat, avoiding looking at the elderly woman. As she fell silent, Sam turned all of their attention back onto the matter at hand. "So how are we supposed to find this witch if she's already left?"

"You use that girl's nose." Amelia's words were blunt, sharp as she pointed at Alex, who silently looked down at the table, as if refusing to acknowledge the witch's words. "Her dog nose will be able to track her, trust me on that." The elderly woman smiled faintly. "I wish you luck on your hunt. I do hope the violence comes to an end soon. I used to enjoy it, I won't lie to you hunters, but now...all an old woman wants is peace."

Sam thanked her and the trio took their leave, Dean studying Alex with narrowed eyes. "Something you gotta tell us, _Alexandriana_?"

In an instant, there was a blade pointed at him, a deadly look on her face. "Call me that again," she said warningly, gaze serious. "And your throat will meet the outside world, Winchester. _Nobody_ calls me that. That name belongs to some innocent child who had a family. Say it again, Winchester, I dare you." That said, she whipped around in a fury and stormed over to where they'd hidden the Impala.

Sam watched after her, then leaned slightly closer to murmur in Dean's ear, aware of Alex's good hearing. "Secret, huh?"

Dean crossed his arms. "Need to find out about what she might be hiding. For all we know, she might be some all powerful demon possessing a skinwalker's body."

"That blade isn't of demonic origins though," Sam muttered. "I looked into it. It only comes from legends that even Bobby has troubles looking into. It's never been seen in any mortal realm. Ever. I'll see what I can find about her now that we have a last name, though."

"Good. Let's go. Don't want my throat cut out..."

Alex suddenly whipped around to face the two hunters, her eyes full of irritation that Dean wasn't sure he wanted to be pointed at him. She'd been pissy since Amelia's words, and even he was wary of her. "My nose is good, but even better in my little doggy form. You guys are gonna have to go as a cop and and one with a K-9 partner."

Sam narrowed his eyes in thought. "We can't just walk in with a dog, Alex. There's certain things we need-"

"A collar, a leash, and a vest announcing my reason for being there, all in my bag," Alex said sharply. "I've worked this way with someone before. Move, let me go get the stuff." She ducked past them, biting her lip and letting worry crease her brow. She was screwed. Seriously screwed. If they found out what she was hiding from them... What she had lied about... _Matt_...

Shaking her head to clear it, relieved that she had a hunter that she could work with that wouldn't turn on her the second she wasn't needed anymore, she retrieved the three needed objects, then began stripping, making sure her slim form was hid behind the Impala. She didn't need Dean getting a third chance to see her naked. She carefully folded her clothes, then shifted down. Soon, she was a wolfdog, easily trotting over to Sam and Dean with a leash, collar, and police dog vest grasped in her jaws.

She was _very _aware of the surprised look that crossed Sam's face at her size. He had yet to see this version of her. Dean, however, merely snickered as she dropped the objects in her jaws, shaking her fur out. She growled softly, glaring at him, then picked her possessions back up and carried them over to Sam. She trusted San more than Dean to put such things on her. With her luck, Dean would strangle her purposely with the collar.

She nudged the items with her nose and Sam stared at her for a few seconds, stunned. She gave a wolfish grin. Her back nearly reached him mid-thigh. Nonetheless, the moose of a man knelt down and set to work on collaring her. As he clipped it on, Alex grumbled, unhappy. She hated having to wear one, but for this, it was needed. She did appreciate, however, when Sam adjusted the collar so that it hung loosely around her neck. The leash was clipped on next, and then the vest was strapped on. Soon, Alex looked as much like a police dog as she could.

Shaking herself again, she sat down, giving them pointed looks. In order to do what needed to be done, they needed to look the part as well. About ten minutes later, she doubted anyone would have recognized them as three who might be a bit of trouble. All three walked down the sidewalk, heading for the building they'd tracked the witch to. Dean had his hands in his pockets and Sam carried the other end of the leash that was attached to Alex, though it was more because of the fact that she trusted Sam not to tie her up somewhere like a common non-working animal.

When they ducked into the building, they weren't questioned, and Sam felt a slight moment of relief. They had nothing to prove that they were cops that were allowed to have a dog with them, even one wearing a K-9 Unit's vest. Just for keeping up appearances, he gave Alex an apologetic look and muttered, "Heel," when Dean went to speak with one of the workers.

Alex did as she knew to do: she sat beside him, sniffing furiously for any trace of the witch. When the scent crossed her nose, she gave a growling rumble, looking pointedly at Sam. Sam held up a hand to tell her to hold on a moment, then said as soon as Dean had returned with no information, "Alex has something."

"Do you?" Dean muttered, looking to Alex for confirmation. The skinwalker desperately tugged lightly at the leash, urging silently for Sam to follow. With their luck, the witch had somehow sensed them again and run off. They didn't have any time to waste.

Luckily, Sam got the message and let her lead him. Dean kept close, his hand flexed and ready to dart to the pistol he kept hidden at the small of his back. Once again, Alex thanked whatever god was out there that her blade was able to stay on her at all times in case it was needed.

She stopped at an elevator, growling in frustration. She hated elevators. They set off her scent trails...carefully, she reared up, ignoring the look on Sam's face when he realized she could have easily put her paws on his shoulders like this, sniffing at the buttons. She tapped the one heading down with her nose, then dropped back to all four paws, settling down to wait.

"Basement, just the place for a witch," Dean said, pulling out his gun as soon as the elevator doors shut.

Sam dug around in his jacket, then tossed a pair of jeans and a T-Shirt down to Alex, who stared up at him in surprise. He rolled his eyes. "Dean figured you'd want to be able to help out more than you usually can in that other form."

Alex gave a woflish grin, then gave Dean a suspicious look when he smirked. She knew that look. He just wanted to see her naked again. She tugged at the vest with her teeth until Sam knelt down to help her get it off, then took on a human form before Sam had time to even stand straight. She grinned when Sam gave her some modesty, rapidly standing and wheeling around. "Ooh, I like that. Means I just have to train a certain someone that his eyes will be ripped from his head if he _doesn't stop looking!_" Alex punctuated that sentence by throwing her collar at Dean after removing it, glaring. He snickered, but turned away, letting her get dressed. Alex made a face. The lack of underwear sucked, but she appreciated that Sam had been willing to think to grab at least some clothing for her.

"What do you want to do with this?" Dean questioned as Alex ran her fingers through hermessy hair. He waved the collar and leash around, nodding at the vest as he did so.

"Just toss it by the elevator," Alex instructed as they ducked out of it. "I'll pick it up on our way out."

It was dark in the basement, nearly pitch black. And the darkness made her nervous. Luckily, Dean had thought ahead, and removed a flashlight, turning it on and holding it up along with his gun. "Alright," he muttered, "We're looking for a creepy old lady who shouldn't be too hard to bring down."

And then Dean suddenly went flying, thrown backward by some invisible force. Alex jerked away in surprise, her blade materializing along her arm in an instant. She ripped it free of its invisible bindings, and Sam ripped his gun out, but was the one who went sprawling next. His gun clattered along the floor and Alex dove out of the way when a desk went sliding at full force towards her, making sure to grab the gun as she did so. She sprang to her feet quickly, gaze darting this way and that as Sam shoved himself to his feet. She clicked the safety on, then tossed him his gun. "Okay, so Miss Witchy doesn't like the sterotype," Dean wheezed as he made his way back over.

Alex gave a faint smirk, then began advancing forward, cautious. When a woman materialized with a murderous look on her face, Alex was ready, and lashed out, not with her blade, but with her hand, slamming a fist into the witch's jaw. She screamed in anger and pain, ripping away before suddenly wildly lashing out in return, a knife glinting in her hand. Alex ignored the pain of a knife slicing a small amount into her arm, glaring at Dean. Dean snorted, slowly beginning to move around them, Sam joining Alex to keep the witch occupied while he did so.

"How dare you," she hissed, glaring dead eyes at them. Insanity made the witch's eyes wild. "How dare creatures of your kind come in and kill my son!"

"You're crazy," Sam retorted, "We didn't touch your son!"

The witch glared at him. "Not you," she spat, "The skinwalker. The bitch killed my son."

"I didn't do anything to your son, I try my best to stop that kind of stuff," Alex retorted, gritting her teeth when the witch cast the knife aside and instead pulled a small pistol from the small of her back, her eyes wide as she smiled and cocked it before aiming it at Alex's head. Alex froze, not moving. One of the many rules to hunting: don't piss off the one with the gun. Except this time, it wasn't the hunter with the weapon.

Dean had begun to advance forward, wary, and Sam's gaze flicked from Alex to the witch to Dean. The witch frowned, then whipped around just as Dean lunged forward, gun trained on the witch and ready to fire. The familiar sounds of gunshots rang out, and the witch cried out before crumpling to the floor, dead within seconds. Alex gave a small squeal unintentionally, dropping her head into her hands, blood dripping from her fingers quickly. "DAMN IT ALL TO BLOODY HELL! CAN'T YOU SHOOT A GUN WITHOUT GETTING ME IN THE CROSSFIRE, WINCHESTER?"

Dean blinked, then glared, uncertain of what else to do. "Then stop getting in the way!"

"Dean," Sam said sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose before moving over to Alex. "Do we need to take you to a hospital or can we get out of here before people come looking?"

Alex carefully raised her head, wincing. "Let's get the bloody hell out of here. I have some a sexy face to bash in." She shot a dark look at Dean, who ignored her in favor of retreating to fetch their possessions. Grumbling as Sam inspected the injury, she muttered, "Why's he so pissy with my anyways?"

"It's not just you," Sam muttered, gently studying the graze a bullet had left above her left eye. "It's a long story that I don't want to talk about right now. Some other time I'll explain. But to cut it short, Dean made a deal with a crossroads demon and he has a few months left to live. Don't mention it to him or he'll go and get himself wasted."

"Already seen that," Alex muttered, referring to a time not too long ago when Dean had come bursting into the motel room they'd been sleeping in, waking both only to exclaim that he was actually happy before passing out on the couch.

As Dean came meandering back over, Sam pulled back. "Probably needs a few stitches. I'll do it when we get back to out room, and then we'll take off out of here. I don't think anyone will come looking for her, but it's better to be safe than sorry."

"Safe isn't fun though," Dean commented.

Alex glared at him, ignoring the blood that leaked into her eye. "Jerk."

To her surprise, he smirked. "Bitch."

A hard, bruising kick to the shin later, Alex was stalking towards the elevator, Sam following her with a smug look on his face as Dean limped, cursing the skinwalker for her unnatural strength when it came to kicking him.

* * *

><p><strong>(AN)**

***awkwardly flails* Randomness that I hope you enjoyed! XD**

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews:<strong>

**PsychoFishHead:** I love your username for some reason. XD And thank you! I'm glad you like this. :)

**Guest:** Thanks!


	3. Revenge

**|November 17th, 2014|**

She was, to put it fairly lightly, furious. Less than two days after dealing with a man that had been hunting Sam for reasons she didn't know (there was something else to add to her list!), she was sitting alone in a motel room, seething. She'd been expecting a phone call, but she hadn't expected the Winchesters to leap on that information and declare that she was to stay behind. And to top it all off? The Winchesters should have been back hours ago along with there being a specific lack of phone call.

"I'm done," Alex muttered, standing swiftly. She glowered at her phone for a moment, then stormed over to her duffel bag, searching through the jumble of things inside before pulling out a piece of clothing, holding it up for examination. A slim, strapless cocktail dress of the color black, matched with a pair of some high black sandal heels and multiple pieces of turquoise jewelry made for a wonderful outfit that attracted nicer...fun in the form of richer men. Not that she was a prostitute or anything like that, but accepting money after a fun night wasn't something she wanted to turn down in this life.

Quickly, Alex shed her casual outfit and slid on the dress. Adjusting it, she walked barefoot into the bathroom to do her hair and makeup. It was only around ten minutes later that she came out, her eyes even more piercing than before. The icy blue color popped even more when she put on the jewelry as well. "There," she said smugly. If Dean and Sam were going to leave her behind, she was going to enjoy herself.

She slid into the heels, then strutted outside, studying the available cars. Naturally, they'd taken the Impala, so she was stuck walking or stealing a car. She settled on a decent looking but not too fancy car and set to work on the stealing bit. Soon, she was climbing into the front seat, beaming as the engine purred to life. Strapping herself in, she pulled out of the parking lot and started towards the nearby city, where she had no doubt a club would be.

Finding one late at night was one of the easiest things on Earth, she realized quickly. Within moments of driving around, she discovered one that was filled with pounding music and a few decent looking men and women hanging around out front. She slid from the vehicle after parking, aware of the eyes that instantly studied her. She knew she looked good, not even hesitant to think such self-centered thoughts. And they knew it, too.

She slid past the bouncer with a quick showing of a fake FBI badge, then popped her neck as she looked around. Most of the night's people contained teenagers that had somehow gotten in, but Alex couldn't blame them. She would have done the same if she hadn't been out hunting things that go bump in the night for years and years on end. A path seemed to open up for her as she strode through the dancers, most of which were disgustingly grinding upon one another, as she made her way to the bar. She ordered a drink, then settled down to wait for someone to join her.

It didn't take long, she noted with smug amusement. Seconds after she'd ordered her beer, a man with a not so bad face slid into the seat beside her, shooting her a flashing white grin. Alex returned it with a sly smirk, fluttering her eyelashes in the way she only did when she wanted something. "Hi, there."

"Hey," he replied eagerly. A bit too eagerly for her liking. He couldn't be older than her, most likely a freshman in college. From not too far off, a group of guys were watching them. She fought the urge to curl a lip. Probably hoping to get in on the action, too, she thought. The guy offered her a hand to shake, and Alex eagerly shook it. "Zane."

"Alex," she purred, pausing to sip at her beer, relishing in the taste. "Nice to meet you, Zane." She stroked along the inside of her arm, letting her blade comfort her for a moment...then froze. It was gone. Her precious blade, the one that killed just about everything, had vanished. "Dammit," she spat, shooting to her feet. "Excuse me, Zane, turns out I need to leave."

He grabbed her arm, pulling her back into her seat with a smug grin. "Oh, I don't think you want to do that. I recognize others of my kind when I see them. It certainly helps that my nose is a bit sharper than usual, too. Looking for this?" The blade danced along his fingers and Alex didn't hesitate to reach out and snatch it up, a scowl on her face. How had she not noticed that he reeked of the same scent she did?

"Don't tempt me," she gritted out, disappointed that her night had taken a turn for the worse. "Damn it, I wanted a break from this nonsense and the first man I end up meeting is a bloody skinwalker, too. Just great." She ripped her phone out, meaning to dial a furious text to one of the Winchesters in case backup was needed immediately, but was stopped when Zane snatched it away and easily dropped it on the ground, hopping from his chair and onto it, smashing it into pieces. Alex's jaw dropped.

"I don't think so," he chimed, then crooked a finger, beckoning for her to follow. "My buddies and I would like to know why a fellow skinwalker is joining hunters that are after us."

"We're not on a hunt...right...ooh, those bloody bastards are dead!" Alex hissed. _This_ was why they'd vanished off the face of the Earth! Not because of some "boy night" but because they were hunting her own species. Lovely. Just what she needed. Even more than pissed off, she growled, "Lead the way, love, and I'll try not to rip your throat out."

At least she had her weapon back...nope! She growled again when he somehow had it once more and tucked it into his jacket. Great. He had to be some kind of magician or something on top of skinwalker...following him with an icy look that scared a few people as she passed them, Alex silently prayed for some strike of good luck. She was a proud hunter, one that never fooled around.

To be held hostage in a way by her own kind was a harsh embarrassment on her part. Especially when she realized she was hoping that the Winchesters were somewhere nearby to lend her hand. She sighed. Gone were the days of completely relying on herself. A sigh escaped her as she crossed her arms, well aware that she could change forms and make a run for it. The wolf-dog forms were rare among skingwalkers and much faster than the simple dogs. But then she'd lose her good outfit...and they had her weapon.

One look at the buddies and she knew it would be better to come back later. Even she, Alex, knew when to retreat. Pouting over the loss of her clothes and heels, she let her form change at the same time that she surged forward, not oblivious to the fact that she was still in the club. A snarl left her lips when Zane wheeled around with surprise. People screamed and fled from her and she lunged forward, bolting from the club quickly.

The bouncer cried out in surprise as the people outside scattered. She loped past them, shuddering when a furious howl rang out. _Damn it!_ she thought, skirting around the corner of a building, bolting at full speed in the direction of the motel. Dean and Sam wouldn't be back yet if they were on a hunt, she knew that, but she knew for a fact that there were a few weapons stashed in select places for occasions that someone broke in and attacked.

Just why, she wondered as she ran, her tongue hanging out as she panted for air, fur puffed up in agitation, did the skinwalkers want her? Yes, she was working with Sam and Dean, but apparently she wasn't in on this hunt. So what was the point?

She swiveled her ears backwards, listening intently as she slowed to a tensed stop. She could hear the growls of one hot on her heels. She took off again, cursing her luck. Only she would go out for a night of fun and come across others of her kind that wanted to commit murder.

This was going to be a long night. _Especially_ since she was unable to touch silver and couldn't get her weapon back. She'd have to resort to her second choice.

Tearing their throats out with her teeth made for an effective choice.

* * *

><p>Dean threw the shotgun full of silver bullets over his shoulder and into the backseat of the Impala, a furious scowl on his face as Sam hauled himself into the passenger seat. "Chill, Dean," Sam huffed, "It's not the end of the world if we can't find them the first night we're out here. The second they strike again, we go on the move, remember?"<p>

"I don't want our little tag-a-long knowing about this," he gritted out, starting the car and settling down to drive. "I don't want her interfering on another one of our hunts."

"She could find them faster with her nose," Sam commented, earning a venomous glare from his brother. He shook his head. "What do you not like about her? She's not too bad."

"She's British."

"So?" Sam stared at his brother with obvious disbelief. "What does that have to do with anything? Yeah, Bela was British, but not everyone's a thief who decided to make deals that ended with a trip to-" He cut off, catching himself, especially when Dean's gaze darkened unhappily. "Sorry," Sam muttered, shaking his head.

Ignoring that, Dean gritted out, "I just don't trust her. She's a skinwalker, Sammy. They all turn out bad in the end. It's impossible not to, especially after what Gordon tried. He's just like her. A hunter-creature mix isn't a good one. We're going to end up putting a silver bullet in her head, Sam."

Sam shook his head. "Gordon was also insane," he pointed out, ignoring the memories of the mess Gordon had created. "Alex isn't crazy and doesn't want to kill us for some rumors."

"I don't care," Dean said gruffly. "I don't like her-"

He cut off sharply, slamming on the brakes. The Impala screeched to a halt, both men thrown forward against their seat belts as it did so. Sam grunted at the sudden whiplash. "Ow," he muttered, then blinked when he realized _why_ Dean had stopped.

A writhing flurry of black, white, and reddish fur fought viciously in the middle of the street. Screams and howls and high-pitched yelps came from the fighting canines and it took Sam a few moments to realize just how familiar the one was. Dean realized it as well and cursed, reaching behind him and snatching up his shotgun as the black Great Dane snarled and locked its jaws around Alex's throat. He was out of the car quickly, Sam following suit. A gunshot rang out as Dean fired the silver rounds off, easily catching the enemy skinwalker in the head. The canine crumpled silently and Alex squirmed out from underneath him, panting for air and bleeding heavily from multiple wounds that covered her stained her fur.

Dean lowered the shotgun, glaring at her. "The hell are you doing out here?"

She gave him a growl in response, staggering to stand a bit closer to Sam, eying the shotgun warily before giving him a pointed look. Sam gave a tight smile, moving to the trunk of the car and returning shortly with a set of clothes for her. She took them lightly in her jaws, then limped around towards the back of the car.

Dean was half-tempted to turn around, just to piss her off, but the sound of her voice stopped him. "We need to move," she gritted out, grimacing in pain. Seconds later, she was limping back into view, her eyes full of exhaustion and pain. Blood was already soaking the shirt Sam had given her, surprisingly one of Dean's, Dean noted with annoyance. The jeans, however, we're her own.

"And why is that?" Dean demanded. "The hell are you doing out anyways?"

"How about I get to know why I was left on a hunt that involves my own people?" Alex shot back, furious. "Because you pair of jerks left me back at the motel, I got bored and went out to a club. And you want to know something? I don't have my weapon anymore! Thanks, thanks a whole lot for making my life a whole lot harder right now!" She winced, mentally doing a sweep of where she was injured. A nasty gash from her shoulder, across her back, and down to her hip that would need to be patched up. A broken finger that would heal quickly, alongside a few scratches and scrapes. The worst outside of her back, however, was the deep bite on her neck, that had just barely nicked her jugular. She shuddered. Seconds later, and Dean would have been too late.

Grudgingly, she shot him a look. "Thank you for shooting him, by the way. Nearly got me."

Dean snorted, then frowned when his phone suddenly went off. He checked the caller I.D., then slowly answered it, cautious. "Hello?" A moment's silence. "What the- slow down, man, we didn't do anything! No, we're working with her. Yeah, yeah." Dean rolled his eyes, shooting Alex a look that made her smile sheepishly. She knew _exactly_ who had called Dean, Sam realized. And she knew Dean was about to be pissed. "Just who the hell are you, anyways? Who says you get to order anyone around?"

When Dean hung up, Alex began to slink closer to Sam, her smile vanishing at the deadly calm look on Dean's face. "So, Alex," he said tightly. "Care to explain why you lied to us again?"

"Huh?" Sam glanced at her. "What are you guys talking about?"

"Meant to tell you tonight, when I was expecting the call," Alex drawled out in response, her accent sharpening. "But _someone_ just had to go dancing off..." Slowly, she turned to Sam and said, picking her words carefully, "I, err, kinda missed a few details. My family _was_ killed by that skinwalker, like I said, but, err, not all of 'em. I have an older brother, still human, who decided to look the other way."

She was met by a moment of silence before Dean exploded, just like she'd thought he would. "You didn't think it was smart to mention _you had a brother who could have come after us if he wanted_?"

She shrugged. "Like I said, he doesn't care much for the supernatural world. If I run out of cash though," she smirked, drawling in her exaggerated accent, "then he finds me a job to get me some." She rolled her eyes at the anger Dean wore on his face. "Listen, Winchester, Gordon obviously wanted something from Sammy here," she jerked a thumb at the wary man, "and I know you two are keeping secrets from me. So if you spill, I'll spill. Deal? No? Then sorry to disappoint you." She winced, pressing a hand lightly to her bloody throat. "What did Matt want?"

"Something 'bout _the_ skinwalker being on the move," Dean muttered, then frowned when Alex choked in surprise before heaving bloody coughs, cursing loudly. With so many unfamiliar words jumbling the mix, Sam gave Dean a clueless look. What the hell was she saying?! "And how did he get my number?"

"Voice mail," Alex chimed back, "I lost my phone at a club." She was slicked in blood, but this time, her eyes had taken on an icy look, her gaze emotionless. "The bastard's moving then. Lovely. And I don't have my weapon...he say where it was heading?"

"Here. Something about wanting something."

"We need to move," Alex breathed, "I need my weapon back. NOW. That bastard's different then the rest of the skinwalkers, Dean." He blinked, surprised that she'd referred to him by his actual name. She turned to Sam, pleading, "Sam, you'll help me get it back at least, right? I need it."

"Uh, sure," Sam agreed warily.

"What's so important about this skinwalker? If we're going after it, I might as well know," Dean said crossly.

Alex, who'd been in the process of hauling herself into the Impala, hesitated. "It's the one that killed the rest of my family because of my blade." That said, she slammed the door shut and waited impatiently for them to get in and get moving.

They didn't have much time.

* * *

><p><strong>|A Few Hours Later...|<strong>

Alex carefully hauled herself into the car, sweat pouring down her forehead from the effort it took after the amount of medication she'd taken and the stitches Sam had put in her back in an attempt to help her heal even faster than she already did. She'd dressed in a fresh pair of jeans and a loose T-Shirt, but this time, she'd slipped black leather gloves over her hands. She was careful not to let any bare skin to touch the silver bullets as she quickly put them into the pistol she'd borrowed from the other two hunters. Sam climbed into the passenger seat, glancing back to check on her. "You alright?"

"Yep," Alex drawled, finishing what she was doing and twirling the gun easily as she beamed at him. "Where's the other Winchester? I can't lose this bastard's trail, I've been searching for him for months."

"Dean's coming, give him a second," Sam answered, checking his own weapons.

Teasingly, Alex muttered, "I'm not the only one who could hide a weapon in their hair." That earned her a playful glare in response. Dean made an appearance then, reaching over his shoulder to put a shot gun in the backseat beside Alex after climbing into the driver's seat. "Ready to go?"

"Yep," Sam replied, "We're ready. Anything important we should know about the skinwalker, Alex?"

"He's a lot like the rest of them," Alex murmured, "But when silver burns me like this..." She took a silver dagger from it's sheathe at her hip, resting it on her arm and hissing as the smell of burning flesh filled the car, making Dean glare at her for daring to put such a smell in his beloved Impala. "It doesn't do anything like that to him. It'll kill him if you can get it through his head or heart, but it won't be like a normal skinwalker. I don't know why."

"Great," Dean gritted out. "Just what we needed. We'll need to be careful."

"No, we'll need to run in there and mess it all up like you usually do," she said sarcastically in response before sulkily glaring out the window as Dean pulled out of the motel parking lot. Alex ran her hand through her hair, wincing when she accidentally tugged on her stitches. This needed to be done right. This might be the only way she could get her needed revenge.

It took her mere moments to nod off, tired from the events of her evening alongside the medicine. And with the sleep came dreams.

_She cowered beneath the table, sobbing in quiet hysteria as her mother's screams cut off. Scared, the small girl clutched a black blade in her hand, her wide blue eyes filling with horror as claws clicked daintily on wooden floor. Massive black paws appeared, and Alexandriana tightened her grip fearfully on her weapon. She didn't know how or why her mother had pulled it out of her arm, but she knew it was important. Her brother hid not too far away beneath a counter, silent. _

_ And then, a massive creature dropped to the floor, blood dripping from its bared teeth and lips. It lunged forward, catching her leg in its jaws, biting down until a crack was heard, and Alexandriana screamed as she was dragged out of hiding, the blade flailing desperately in her hand. She managed to catch the canine across the eye with her blade, and it howled, jerking back. In a panic, Alexandriana turned and bolted, desperate to get out of the house and to what might be safety. _

_ It was not to be, however. Within moments of her escape, it was on her again, ripping violently at her legs and belly. Alexandriana screamed and sobbed, lashing desperately with her weapon._

_ The pain wouldn't stop. The pain only grew worse and worse, as if something was burning her from the inside out, and she screamed louder in agony, but it only continued until finally, the canine opened its jaws, towering above her, and lunged to grasp her throat in its powerful black jaws..._

Alex snapped awake when a hand gripped her knee, gently shaking it. "Alex. Alex, wake up. Can you hear me?"

Alex snatched Sam's wrist in a surprisingly bruising grip, her icy blue eyes flashing with fear for a brief moment before relaxing into a look of annoyance. "Not a good idea to wake the skinwalker up suddenly, Sam. I'm fine." She gently smacked his hand away, wincing as she carefully shifted forward to peer out the windshield, purposefully resting her chin on the seat beside Dean's head, just to bother him. He gave her a dirty look. She studied the simple looking house with a curious look, her eyes roving over it. "Where are we and why are we at a house?"

Dean opened his mouth to fire back a furious retort, undoubtedly something not too nice, but Sam interrupted, sparing her the effort of having to pry information out of his brother. "We had a friend of ours, Bobby Singer, track down a few possible places where the pack of skinwalkers might be hiding, and then we narrowed it down ourselves."

Alex nodded, liking the method in which they'd done it. She glanced pleadingly at Dean, batting her eyelashes innocently. "Can you help me out of the car, Winchester?"

"Get yourself out," he muttered, glaring at her as he climbed out. Alex glowered irritably, then blinked when the door opened and he actually offered her his hand. Ignoring the look she gave him as she took it, he hauled her out, both being careful not to pull any of her stitches. Giving him a grateful look, she popped her neck and twirled the pistol in her hand. "Alright," she said firmly, knocking the door shut with her hip. "Let's go get my weapon back so we have a chance at killing an evil son of a bitch."

"And if the thing's already in there?" Sam questioned, clicking the safety of his own pistol off.

"Shoot all the others, but I want him. I don't care what you guys think about doing jobs right, I want to kill that bloody bastard." Alex gave Dean a pointed look. "Shoot my guy, Winchester, and I'm coming after you." She spoke seriously in a deadly tone, daring him to do otherwise.

Dean threw his arms up in surrender, rolling his eyes. "Fine. You win, sweetheart, you kill the big guy. You got anyway we can know him from the others if he's anywhere near there?"

"A scar," Alex said firmly, tapping the side of her face. "Should be blind in one eye." She smirked proudly. "I was five when I got him the first time. Then again," she added under her breath, her fingers skimming lightly across her stomach with a darkened look, "He also got me when that happened." Shaking that off, she pushed Sam forward, surprising the taller of the two Winchesters. "Come on."  
>In the end, it somehow turned out with Dean taking Alex with him around back and Sam going in the front, similar to their failed strategy with the witch Amelia. This time, however, they were certain it would work. Alex kept her gun ready, mentally checking off the multiple silver weapons she'd have to be careful of. She and Dean paused beside the back door of the house, both listening intently. Dean listened carefully, his brow furrowed thoughtfully as he waited. Suddenly, there was a screech from inside, followed by several shots of a gun and with ease, Dean broke through the door. Alex stuck close to him, her face an emotionless mask.<p>

They made their way through the back of the house to a sitting room, where Sam was standing alone with two bodies crumpled on the ground, naked. Alex gazed coolly at them. She had no sympathy for the skinwalkers who got themselves killed. They were stupid, attempting to murder and create more for their packs. Sam nodded towards the stairs. "I heard something up there."

"Probably some more," Alex murmured thoughtfully. She motioned for Dean to go up the stairs first and followed him as he ascended. Sam kept close behind, making sure nothing popped out behind them.

There was a snarl, and then Dean was nearly thrown down the stairs with a curse. He jerked a silver dagger out of its hiding place, slamming it into the dog's throat. It gurgled on blood, thrashing weakly for a few moments before going limp, canine form shivering out of existence. Dean shoved the naked woman's body off of him with a look of disgust. "I don't do necrophilia," he muttered when Sam snickered.

Alex smirked, then whipped her gun up and fired a round off when a streak of silver lit the air for a brief moment. This time, it landed on her, sending her slamming back into Sam. Both went tumbling down the stairs at full force, Sam grunting when she landed on him. Pain rippled through her when the skinwalker buried its fangs in her calf, and she scrambled to find one of the silver weapons. Dean beat her to the punch, a gunshot ringing out seconds before the skinwalker went limp.

"Thanks," Alex muttered, examining her wound as Sam scrambled to his feet. She copied, then limped up the stairs. Dean waited at the top, half of his attention on her and Sam and the other on the area around them, searching for any other attacker. "Any sign of the one I want or Zane?"

"Who?" Dean muttered, raising an eyebrow.

"Jerk with my blade," Alex said bluntly, rolling her eyes. "Not anyone I some fun with, let me assure you. He got close, but not close enough." Grumbling under her breath, the young woman pushed past the snickering Dean and into a room upstairs, pistol ready. What she came across wasn't what she wanted, but was disgusting nonetheless...until she looked closer.

One of the sex-driven skinwalkers was a female she hadn't seen, but the other was none other than Zane. And right beside the bed the two were on and scrambling to cover themselves was her blade, sitting atop a decent looking nightstand. Alex had her gun up in an instant, firing off rounds with a cold anger that chilled even herself to the bone. She didn't usually feel such anger. She hit the female instantly, sending Zane into a snarling fury. But there was a bullet through his head before he could even get off the bed, and Alex clicked the safety of her gun on before tucking it at the small of her back and scooping up the strange blade she adored. Stroking the black metal, she smirked proudly and glared viciously at the bodies before turning to smile sweetly at the shocked Sam, who'd ducked through the doorway. "Okay," she said firmly. "We can go kill the one I want now."

"If he's even here," Dean muttered.

Alex inhaled sharply, her eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as she did so. Then she smirked. "Oh, he's here. And nobody else is left for us to worry about. Come on." She paused for a brief moment to try and locate specifically where the skinwalker who had turned her was, but was unable to.

Dean glanced outside of the room, then waved for them to follow, a finger at his lips to motion to them to be quiet. Sam readied his gun, stalking over with ease, and Alex lined her blade along her forearm before joining them. She peeked around the corner, ducking close to Dean to purposely make him uncomfortable though, to her disappointment, he didn't seem to notice. Movement caught her attention; there was a flicker of a shadow as someone moved along a wall.

"Ooh," Alex breathed, her blue eyes sparkling with a hard amusement. She was excited, eager to finally capture her revenge after years of hunting. "This is going to be fun."

Sam was the one who seemed to know exactly what she planned on doing. "Alex, don't just pop out, we might be able to-"

She interrupted him by suddenly morphing into a canine form, her ears flattening as she bolted. She curled her lips back in a snarl, lunging for the shadow...then came up short with wide eyes when a girl who reeked of humanity screamed, wheeling away from her. Alex jerked back as well, tripping over her own paws as she scrambled backwards. Dean and Sam materialized, guns at the ready. Before they could fire off any shots, however, Alex was in her human form again, lunging to get them to not fire. "Don't!" she gasped, "She's human! Completely and utterly human! She doesn't smell of anything else!"

Dean lowered his gun immediately, Sam copying at a slower pace as the girl pressed herself back against the wall, her entire body quivering. "Where am I?" she demanded. "Who the hell are you- don't come near me!" she cried when Alex took a step closer, her face softening. "Oh, my God, you're all monsters, just like those other ones, aren't you!?"

"We're not the monsters," Dean retorted, looking annoyed. "Why is it that we get to be the monsters? Every single time..."

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother, then told the human girl, "I'm Sam. This is my brother, Dean. We're both humans. Alex is a skinwalker, yes, but she's not like the other ones, I promise. She's with us."

The human girl shuddered, turning her gaze away from Alex, and Alex growled under her breath, a hurt look crossing her face briefly. "We don't have to save you, you know," she spat in a temper, curling a lip. "Bloody humans. You're all a bunch of- shush!" She suddenly whirled around, canine as she did so. Her ears swiveled forward to listen intently to something only she could hear. She slid forward, looking more like a cat than a dog as she made her way down the hall. Dean glanced at Sam, nodding towards the human girl and Sam gave a curt nod in response. He would stay and make sure the girl was safe.

Dean hurried after Alex, making sure her red fur didn't leave his sight as he did so. He would let her kill the skinwalker if she wanted to, but if it was as powerful as she said he was, than she couldn't go alone. He wanted to slam his head against a wall. Here he was, protecting the back of a skinwalker he held no trust for. Or, he supposed, held no liking for. Alex had proven herself at _least_ once. When Gordon had been after Sam, it had been her to fend him off when he got close to killing his brother. And anyone who protected Sam earned at least a ribbon in his book.

Alex stopped, blue eyes locked on a massive form that had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. The black creature before them pulled its lips back in a snarl, and Alex responded with a vicious one of her own. "This him?" Dean demanded gruffly, raising his gun. Just because he'd agreed to keep back and let Alex do the fun stuff didn't mean he wouldn't shoot if it came after him.

Alex knelt, her hand reaching for her blade. "Yes," she hissed furiously, glaring dangerously. Even Dean was wary of the cold rage in her eyes. Alex wasn't generally like _this_ when she was in hunting mode. She thought rationally usually. There was no thinking like that for this version of her.

The other skinwalker changed forms as well, becoming a man with black hair and a milky eye that was blinded by a scar that ran from his brow to his jaw. "I remember you," he purred, "You're the fun little Brit I nearly got to eat years ago. Come to let me finish the job?"

"You wish," Alex said darkly, uncaring that both of them were nude. As she'd explained before to Sam, all modesty went out the window when you were a skinwalker. She ran her fingers along her arm, letting him see her blade ripple into existence. "This is the blade my mother tried to kill you with."

"And the one you nearly took my eye out with," the skinwalker growled, running a hand across his scarred face. Suddenly, he smirked, his eyes latching onto Dean. "Ah, got yourself a hunter buddy?"

"You," Dean said darkly, irritated, "Shut up."

"For once, we agree," Alex said with a false lightness, "But I think rather than you shutting yourself up, I'll do it for you." She launched forward, tackling the other skinwalker without hesitation. Both went rolling across the hall, slamming into a wall with Alex on the wrong side. She winced as her head cracked sharply with the plaster, smashing a hole in it, but then pushed him away, scrambling to gain the upper hand before Dean chose to step in.

A snarl stopped her dead in her tracks however. "You are weak," the other skinwalker crowed proudly, eyes gleaming furiously as she went still, her eyes wide with surprise. "You may have started as a human and you may be attempting to be a hunter, but you're still a skinwalker, girl, forced to obey the command of the Alpha."

Alex gritted her teeth, fighting the urge to remain as she was as the older skinwalker glared full out at her, a command in his gaze.

"Hey!" A gunshot went off and shocked, the skinwalker tore his gaze from hers to snarl at Dean when blood blossomed at a bullet wound on his shoulder. Alex took her chance, more than likely the only chance she'd have, and lunged forward with a semi-crazed grin as she plunged her blade into his back, letting herself enjoy the feeling of a blade shearing through flesh and even bone. _This_ was the man who'd killed her family, turned her into what she was and hunted now. And now, she thought with delight as he went limp beneath her, he was dead. At last, years of searching had come to an end. And an end she wanted, as well.

She shot Dean a look. "You interfered," she accused, irritation clouding her sense of victory and triumph.

Dean rolled his eyes. "You wanted to kill him. You got to, sweetheart. I was just helping you out."

"Jerk," she muttered.

"Bitch," he retorted.

"For that," Alex muttered, "You get to deal with Miss Princess while Sammy and I go pack up the motel."

Dean flicked the safety of his gun on, then tucked it away. Turning away from Alex, he shook his head in annoyance, through a smirk flickered momentarily across his face. "Nice try, woman. _Sam_ gets t handle crazy lady."

"...I can agree with that," Alex decided, then simply shifted into her canine form, annoyed with the obvious looks she was receiving from her fellow hunter. Silently, she glared at him, though there was no true anger behind the gaze.

For the first time since meeting each other, both were willing to agree to a silent truce.

* * *

><p><strong>(AN)**

**Sooooooo sorry about the wait. Hope you enjoyed! :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews:<strong>

None. ;-;


	4. A Very Supernatural Christmas

**|December 24, 2006|**

The light of a flickering fire cast shadows across a peaceful looking living room. It was quiet, the room empty except for the regular furniture a living room usually had and a fireplace. But, on top of all of that, one had to include the many, many Christmas decorations that littered room. Stockings hung from the mantle of the fireplace, which was topped with an antique ticking clock. A Christmas tree stood tall and proud in a corner, between a couch and a love seat, bright green contrasting against the silver ornaments that decorated it and the few, carefully wrapped gifts that rested beneath it.

On a rug in the center of the room sat a boy, playing with a toy train that he remembered opening on Christmas Day the previous year. He stopped, however, looking up when the doorbell rang. He rushed to open the door despite his parents' many, many previous warnings not to do so, and threw it open with a bright grin, already knowing who it was. "Merry Christmas, Grandpa."

His grandfather smiled broadly. "Oh, Merry Christmas to you, too, Stevie." He tightly hugged his grandson, then nudged him aside and stepped into the warm house, closing the front door behind him as Stevie eagerly demanded to know if he'd brought any gifts for the boy. "Now," he teased lightly, "Why would I want to do that?"

Stevie pouted. "'Cause it's Christmas."

His grandpa feigned ignorance. "Oh, I thought Santa Claus brought the presents at Christmas." He paused, glancing at Stevie. "You _have_ been a good boy this year, haven't you?"

"I have, I swear," Stevie said hastily, eyes wide. At least, he thought, as far as he could remember outside of a few tantrums as children his age often threw.

His grandfather smiled. "Well, then, who knows? Maybe he'll come."

* * *

><p>Rushing to put on the correct clothing that he <em>knew<em> was needed, Stevie's grandfather hurriedly put on a white fake beard along with a hat. He adjusted both, making sure that he looked like a "proper" Santa Claus, then picked up a set of jingle bells he'd picked up earlier that day on his way to his child's house. He quickly began to place presents under the tree, taking them out of his big red bag one at a time.

Stevie, hearing the bells, came running, of course. Curious, he peered down the stairs and stared at the disguised man with shock. "Santa!" he whispered.

Pretending not to notice his appearance, the grandfather continued to remove presents from his bag, placing them under the Christmas tree...but then paused when there was the sound of thumping on the roof. He dismissed it at first, especially when Stevie gave small gasp of "Reindeer!", but stopped when ash fell from the chimney and into the fireplace. Suspicious, he moved over to investigate, wary. It was silent for a moment as he looked up the chimney, but the silence was interrupted when he was suddenly ripped up the chimney with a scream, disappearing up into it.

Startled beyond belief, Stevie slowly descended the rest of the way down the stairs, moving to peer up after "Santa". "...Santa?" he said softly, eyes wide.

His answer came in the form of a bloody boot falling from the chimney and onto the living room floor.

* * *

><p><strong>|December, 2007|<strong>

Eyes full of sympathy for the girl that stood just inside, looking outside through the glass door that led to her home, Alex listened intently to the mother's words, searching for any hidden clues as to what might have caused their pain. "Um," the woman said softly, shakily, "my daughter and I were in our beds. Mike was downstairs, decorating the tree. I...I heard a thump on the roof, and he screamed, and now here I am, talking to the FBI."

Dean glanced at Alex, who was disguised as a dog again, though she was sure that the FBI didn't generally work with canines. "And you didn't see any of it?"

The woman shook her head. "No," she murmured. "He was... He was just gone."

"The doors were locked? There was no forced entry?"

Again, she shook her head. "That's right."

Dean studied the house over the woman's head for a moment, taking in the sight of the girl watching dully through the glass door. A few more questions later, Sam came walking out of the house, his brow furrowed in thought as he said, "Thanks for letting me have a look around, Mrs. Walsh. I think we got just about everything we need. We're all set," he added to Dean and Alex.

Dean merely waved his words off. "We'll be in touch."

They turned to leave, Alex keeping close to Dean, who held the leash she was attached to. Her ears swiveled back and she pretended to be simply a dog, scratching an ear when Mrs. Walsh called out and the Winchester brothers glanced back. "The police said my husband might have been kidnapped."

"Could be," Dean said with a shrug.

"Then why haven't the kidnappers called?" Mrs. Walsh sounded desperate, and Alex's heart swelled with even more sympathy for the miserable woman and her daughter. "O-or demanded a ransom? It's three days till Christmas. What am I supposed to to tell our daughter?"

Sam murmured an apology, and the trio simply walked away as the sniffling mother turned to go back inside. "Find anything?" Dean asked, turning to look at his brother.

Sighing, Sam dug something out of his pocket and handed it over. "Stocking, mistletoe...this."

Alex wrinkled her nose when Dean lowered his hand to show it to her. "A tooth?" he muttered, repeating her thoughts aloud unintentionally. "Where was _this_?" He held it up, examining it, and Alex growled in disgust.

"In the chimney."

The skinwalker snorted in amusement when Dean arched an eyebrow at his brother. "Chimney? No way a man fits up a chimney. It's too narrow."

"No way he fits up in one piece," Sam pointed out. Alex simply shook her head at the eldest Winchester's "stupidity" and fell back into thinking, her thoughts trying to get a hold of what she could remember that might do such a thing. But she had nothing, much to her annoyance.

"Alright, so if dad went up the chimney..."

"We need to find out what dragged him up there," Sam finished for his brother.

Alex lifted her gaze to the sky. _Dear Lord, I'm working with a bunch of bloody idiots that are into stating the obvious!_

* * *

><p>Struggling to think of what they might be dealing with as she studied the pictures of the different demons and other monsters on the wall of their current motel room, Alex scowled. Near her, Sam was also looking into the issue, though being much more effective at it due to the fact that he was simply tapping away on the internet. Narrowing her eyes, she said warningly, "I'll get that thing eventually, Sam, just you wait."<p>

"You can try," he retorted, "You won't succeed, Alex. Remember last time?"

Alex opened her mouth to colorfully swear at him about "last time", but was interrupted when the door opened and Dean came inside, carrying a brown paper bag with him. "So?" he prompted as he glanced between them. "Was I right? Is it the serial-killing chimney sweep?"

"You're an idiot, Winchester," Alex said bluntly, snatching the bag away to dig around in it for her portion of food, earning a glare from Dean. The two broke into a small back and forth about something or another that she refused to pay attentio to until Dean returned to their original topic. "It turns out that Walsh is the second guy in town grabbed out of his house this month."

Sam looked away momentarily from his computer. "The other guy get dragged up the chimney, too?"

"Don't know," Dean admitted, "Witnesses said they heard a thump on the roof."

"So what do you think we're dealing with, Sam?" Alex questioned, tearing a bite out of her burger. "Because I, quite honestly, have nothing to input into the conversation here. And I want to get a move on. I'm bored. Food is nice and all, but...you twats have no interesting conversations."

Dean's expression darkened. "The hell did you just call me?"

"I actually have an idea," Sam said hurriedly, determined to keep a spat from breaking out between the two temperamental ones, "Uh, it's going to sound crazy." Dean muttered something about nothing possibly sounding crazy compared to Alex, but Sam merely smiled slightly. "Um...evil Santa."

Dean blinked, then nodded. "Yeah, that's crazy."

Alex simply roared with laughter, nearly cackling as she choked out, "Sam, where in the bloody hell did you come up with such a thing?"

Sam rolled his eyes, waving at his computer screen as he turned it to show them pictures of what he was talking about. "Yeah...I mean, I'm just saying that there's some version of the anti-Claus in every culture. You got Belsnickel, Krampus, Black Peter. Whatever you call it, there's all sorts of lore."

Dean glanced up from the screen he was examining, and Alex curiously questioned, "What do they say?"

"Back in the day, Santa's brother went rogue and now he shows up around Christmas time, but instead of bringing presents, he punishes the wicked."

"By hauling their ass up chimneys?" Dean said blankly, rolling his eyes in amusement.

"Uh, yeah."

"So this is your theory, huh? Santa's shady brother?"

"it sounds ridiculous, Sam," Alex stated to clarify what Dean meant.

"I'm just saying that's what the lore says," Sam snapped, defending himself hastily. "It's not my theory exactly. Just repeating what I'm reading."

"Yeah, well, sorry to break it to you, love," Alex said, "but there is no Santa Claus."

"Yeah, I know," Sam muttered, shooting a look at Dean before looking down with a sigh. "Dean's the one who told me that in the first place." He shook his head. "Yeah, I guess I could be wrong."

Dean shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not." Both glanced at him curiously and he reported, "I did a little digging - shut up, Alex," he added when she opened her mouth to taunt him, "And it turns out both victims visited the same place before they got snatched."

Sam couldn't keep the curiosity out of his voice as he rocked his chair back. "Where?"

* * *

><p>Alex stared blankly at the space around them, her eyes dancing with the laughter she fought to hold back as the familiar sound of "Silent Night" filled her ears. Around them, children played and people wearing the costumes of elves walked around. Finally, a smile crossed her lips in a way that made Dean scowl at her. "Shut up, Alex"<p>

"Anti-Claus?" Sam said incredulously. He studied the Christmas-y place around them with a look of embarrassment. Alex grinned. The moose didn't like being seen at a place for children. "Couldn't be."

Dean grinned, his eyes flicking around them for a moment. "It's a Christmas miracle! Hey, by the way. We should have one this year?" Sam glanced questioningly at him. "A Christmas."

Sam's gaze hardened. "No, thanks."

"We'll get a tree, a little Boston Market. Just like when we were little," Dean insisted, but Sam shook his head, annoyed.

"Dean, those weren't exactly "Hallmark memories" for me, you know." Dean frowned and Sam shook his head. "No, just...no."

Dean, huffing, turned away. "Alright...Grinch."

Alex snickered, though she let her gaze flicker curiously between the two. The skinwalker had yet to learn about what this rush was for the two Winchesters. She could have sworn she'd heard some sort of clue the other day, when something they had shouted at each other had cut both of them off with glances towards her. Even as a skinwalker with excellent senses and memories, however, she couldn't remember. Dean walked off, and Alex took a brief moment to contemplate who to follow...or not. Dean, who was peering curiously at a few things, or Sam, who was staring uncomfortably at a reindeer statue, as if lost in thought.

She chose the former, not wanting to interrupt Sammy's "thinking time".

"You'd think with the ten bucks it costs to get into this place," Dean said to her with disgust, glaring at the brown ground, "Santa could scrounge up a bit of snow."

Alex smirked, looking amused by his comment. "Hey, not everyone has a white Christmas. I, myself, had one last year when I was hunting down a chupacabra in Arizona..." Dean smirked at her comment, as if disbelieving. "What?"

"Sam and I mess around with each other about those," he commented. "Never actually hunted one, though." Dean shook his head, then frowned when Alex stared at him with a smirk materializing on her face. "What's so funny?"

"Dean Winchester hasn't hunted, of all things, a common chupacabra?" Alex clasped her hands together with a gleeful look crossing her blue eyes as she spoke, then turned to face Sam as the moose of a man finally decided to rejoin her and his brother. "Well? Want to tell us what we're looking for again?"

"Uh," Sam muttered, pausing to look around them at the "village" of "elves". "Lore says that the anti-Claus will walk with a limp and smells like sweets."

Dean huffed. "Great. So we're looking for a pimp Santa. Why the sweets."

"Someone's being a bloody idiot today," Alex muttered under her breath with a snicker. "Think about it, fool. You smell like candy, the little ones are more willing to come up to you."

Dean made a face of disgust, making his brother snort in amusement, then questioned, "And this thing knows who's been naughty or nice how?" Sam gave a shrug, and looked at Alex, who flushed and turned her face away, muttering something about how she couldn't be expected to know anything under her breath - then froze, her hand darting out to grasp Dean's jacket-clad sleeve. "Dean. Sam."

Both followed her gaze to where a man in a Santa Claus costume was sitting, just outside a small looking barn. As they watched, a young boy walked up, his hand in his mother's. The man dressed as Santa patted his knee with a hoarse cough. "So, Ronny, come sit on Santa's knee." Looking uncomfortable, the boy did as he was told, looking at his mother for saving, but she merely beamed. "Ah, there you go. You been a good boy this year?" The boy silently nodded. "Good. Santa's got a special gift for you."

Dean glanced at Alex with a gleam in his green eyes, a smirk materializing. "Oh, but we know how."

Suddenly, they were interrupted by a woman in an elf costume walking up, smiling brightly at them. "Hello," she greeted, "Welcome to Santa's Court. May I escort your child to Santa."

The trio of hunters went still, exchanging looks nervously. Sam stammered for a moment before Dean said, "No, no. Uh, but my brother here...it's been a lifelong dream of his." Alex choked on air in surprise at this comment, and Dean found himself grinning largely at the woman.

She looked awkwardly at Sam. "Uh, sorry. No kids over twelve."

Sam waved his hand in front of him, shaking his head desperately. "No, he's just kidding, I swear. We only came here to watch."

Alex bit her lip in an attempt at hiding a smile, shaking her head, and the woman muttered a "ew" before walking off. Finally, Alex burst into a series of laughter, joined by a smirking Dean as Sam glared at both of them. "Thanks a lot, Dean. Thanks for that. Just what I needed."

Dean simply gave him a crooked grin before his face suddenly changed into a serious look. "Check it out," he murmured, nodding in the direction of the Santa, who was leaving his chair and walking past them with a horribly bad limp. Alex inhaled quietly, then gave a low growl, eyes flashing furiously. "Candy," she breathed. "Definitely candy."

"A lot of people walk with limps," Sam pointed out, but Dean shook his head.

"He smells of candy, Sam," Alex pointed out, her eyes narrowing warily. Their icy blue color was a sliver as she growled, "I think we've found our culprit."

Dean pursed his lips together. "Maybe, but are we willing to take that risk?"

* * *

><p>Her eyes never leaving the house that they watched, Alex silently sipped at a thermos of coffee, cradling it in her palms from where she was perched in the passenger seat of the Impala. Beside her, Dean was watching as well. The home of the Santa Claus they'd seen earlier was quiet so far, but nobody wanted to take the chance when it came to saving more lives. Sam had decided to stay back at their motel room and look into the myths more, leaving the two that supposedly hated each other alone.<p>

"What time is it?" Dean muttered to her.

"Time for you to get a watch," Alex retorted despite the glare he gave her. She shoved the thermos at him. Dean went to sip at it, but scowled when not a single drop of the coffee came out. "Thanks for drinking it all."

She smirked slightly. "Of course." She gave him a playful wink, then suddenly tensed, her eyes latching onto the house. "Dean. There." He leaned closer, looking over her shoulder at the trailer as the man they'd been following looked outside before closing his curtains.

Dean frowned. "What's up with Saint Nicotine?"

The sound of a woman's cry had both of them exchanging looks. Alex ripped the door open, shifting even as she did so, her fur puffed up in a dangerous look as she pulled her lips back in a snarl. Dean drew his gun out of hiding and darted after her, stopping to look inside the window of the front door before opening it. He paused, then hid his gun with the fake Santa Claus stood, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. "What the hell are you doing here?" he barked out roughly.

Alex and Dean stared at the TV for a moment, both realizing fairly quickly what the man was watching before Dean simply shook his head, as if stunned. Alex smoothed her fur, quickly forcing herself to become a friendly dog. She woofed, wagging her tail and then shoved at Dean with her shoulder, encouraging him to say something. Dean snapped out of his surprise at the fact that the older man had been watching rather interesting programs and gave an obviously fake grin. "Would you be interested in donating to the local animal shelter...?"

* * *

><p>Furious, Alex stormed into the motel room, her gaze a blizzard of rage. "Go let yourself get eaten by a chupacabra, Winchester," she snarled as she slammed the front door in his face despite that he was staying in the same room as she and Sam, who'd jumped to his feet with a gun in his hand with surprise at the sudden yelling.<p>

Dean ripped it open after, glowering furiously at this comment. "I'm sorry I couldn't think of something better, alright? You told me to talk, I talked. What the hell was I supposed to say, Alex? There was a freaking enormous dog sitting on the guy's front step with a complete stranger! Can't you have a...a...cuter dog or somethin'?"

"He was drunk," Alex seethed, "He called me the ugliest creature he'd ever seen, and he told you to get "the fucking beast" off of his property. Screw off and go to Hell, Winchester," she snarled. She didn't notice the tension that appeared in Dean's body at the comment, but Sam's gaze darkened angrily.

"Alex, don't talk like that," he said sharply, more so than he'd ever spoken to her. She merely scowled, her temper flaring even further, though it faded away when she saw the looks on their faces.

"Oh," she murmured, her eyes widening into round orbs. "That's what you two have been hiding, isn't it?" Dean stiffened even more. "Dean's got a deal like Bela did. And it's almost time to collect." She shook her head, looking almost disappointed. "Excuse me if I don't feel sympathetic for the hunter who knew better but made a deal with demons..."

"Sam was dead thanks to a demon known as Azazel," Dean said with a bluntness that worried her. "I did what I had to. Sam didn't have any choice in the matter."

Alex glanced curiously at Sam. "Seriously? You were dead at one point?" Sam scowled at the question, and Alex shook her head, throwing an arm up to stop his answer. "Never mind, bad question. But seriously." Her eyes softened just barely. "How much do you have _left_?"

"Five months, more or less," Dean said gruffly, turning away. "They only gave me a year to bring Sammy back." Alex shook her head in exasperation, and he muttered, "They had the upper hand."

"Okay," Alex murmured, pinching the bridge of her nose. "So now I'm fully aware of what the hell is going on when you guys go off on your little brotherly talks. I'm sorry that you guys have to go through this, but..." She decided that changing the subject sounded like a much better idea at this point. "Sam. The drunk bastard wasn't the bloody anti-Claus. What the bloody hell were you doing while we were gone? I swear to God, Sam Winchester, if you were faffing around while we were dealing with that-"

Sam, looking utterly at a loss with all of her, as Dean would call it, British talk, cut her off. "Yeah...didn't find anything new on the anti-Claus, but there was another case. It was on the other side of the town, but...Bobby sent me the information. I'll check it out some more and we can go speak with the family tomorrow morning."

"Sounds good to me," Dean grunted, shrugging off his jacket. Alex flopped down on a bed, spreading out on it with a challenging glare at Dean, and he rolled his eyes...only to glance back a moment later when Alex shrieked. Sam had stood, smirking as he hooked an arm around the flailing skinwalker and picked her up, instead dumping her on the couch. Dean let a smile cross his face. "Looks like the bed is mine tonight, Alex," he told her, taking her place on the bed.

Sam quickly took residence on the second motel bed, and Alex pouted at both of them over the back of the couch. "Come on," she protested, relieved that the serious conversation was gone. "You guys got the beds at the last place!"

"Newbie sleeps on the couch," Sam retorted, then threw an arm over his eyes.

"...your laptop is mine," Alex chimed back, making Sam sit up quickly as she darted for the machine. He practically dove off the bed to stop her, but Alex grabbed it and ran back to the couch, cackling the entire way there.

Despite his previous statements, Dean found himself warming up to the skinwalker. Alex was trying, he realized, to cheer not just Sam, but him up, too, even if it was in a weird way.

Alex rolled off the side of the couch, even as Sam desperately reached over it, trying desperately to get his laptop back. But Alex sprang lightly to her feet, waving it around in triumph. Dean threw an arm over his eyes.

_Damn, they're noisy._

* * *

><p><strong>|Next Day...|<strong>

"So, that's how your son described the attack?" Dean said incredulously, looking utterly bewildered. He was once again dressed in his suit, playing as the FBI alongside his brother and this time, Alex was, too, dressed in a black blouse and pencil skirt, making her look professional as she examined the wreath above the fireplace, murmuring quietly to Sam. "_'Santa took daddy up the chimney'_?"

The woman nodded, shifting her weight uncomfortably and hugging herself. "That's what he's told me, yes. I was asleep and all of a sudden... I was being dragged out of my bed, screaming."

Sam wandered over, though Alex remained beside the wreath, squinting at it. "Did you see the attacker?"

She shook her head. "It was dark," she said quietly, "and he hit me. I was knocked out." Tears gathered in her eyes and she quivered slightly, making Dean murmur a sympathetic apology to her.

Alex suddenly piped up, her gaze still on the Christmas wreath, "Mrs. Caldwell, where did you get this wreath?" The three that were talking turned to stare at her and she shrugged. "The other murders that have occurred in a similar fashion, their homes have all had a wreath similar to this."

"Seriously," Dean snapped as they made their way away from the home a few minutes later. "Wreaths?"

"Seriously," Alex retorted, "Wreaths. Sam agrees with me. The Walshes had one hanging on their front door yesterday when we were checking it out. Remember? Honestly. You're an idiot, you know that?" She scowled, irritably climbing into the Impala's passenger seat and making Sam frown.

"She's right, Dean," Sam added, "There was a wreath at the Walshes', exactly like she said."

"I know," Dean protested, "I was just testing you." They climbed into the car, where Alex immediately launched into a rant, making Dean half tempted to simply open the door and push her out before driving off. Just to piss her off, he cranked up some music to drown her out, earning a furious glare. Sam, to his surprise, sent him a grateful look despite his disagreement with Dean's choice in music.

Shaking his head, Dean pulled out of the driveway of the latest victims' house. _Seriously, _he grumbled, _noisy._

Watching with owlishly wide icy blue eyes, Alex stared at Sam as he spoke on the phone with a Bobby Singer, someone she had yet to meet, she realized. They had been chatting for a little while about what could possibly be going on as Alex and Dean helped themselves to some Christmas cookies Alex had purchased at a nearby gas station.

Finally, the conversation came to an end. "Yeah. Well, keep looking, would you? Thanks, Bobby." He hung up, turning to face them. He made his way over, plucking up two cookies to munch on himself. "Well, we're not dealing with the anti-Claus. Bobby said that you and I were a bunch of morons and since he doesn't know Alex yet, nothing about her. He also said that it was probably meadow-sweet in those wreaths." He sat down, snatching the laptop Alex had been playing on out of her lap and setting to work on typing on it, ignoring her pout.

"Wow, amazing," Dean said sarcastically, making Alex snicker. "What the hell is meadow-sweet?"

Smugly, Alex relayed the information Sam was about to spit out. "It's rare, Winchester, really rare. And it's one of the most powerful plants in pagan lore."

Dean arched an eyebrow and Sam gave a nod of agreement. Pulling up an article on what they were talking about, Sam showed his brother the laptop's screen. "Yeah. See? They used meadow-sweet for human sacrifices. It was kind of like chum for their gods."

"They were drawn to it. It was pretty much an invitation to stop by and snack on the nearest human," Alex finished, examining her nails thoughtfully. "Kind of makes you wonder why somebody would be using it for Christmas wreaths though..."

"Not as crazy as it sounds," Sam replied. "I mean, pretty much every Christmas tradition has pagan bases."

Dean snorted, frowning. "Christams is the birthday of Jesus. The hell are you talking about?" He reached for another cookie, only to find the last three in Alex's hands. Smirking, the skinwalker teasingly waved her hand and took a large bite out of one of them. Dean narrowed his eyes, readily preparing himself to quickly grab one.

"Jesus's birthday was probably in the fall," Sam answered without looking up. "It was actually the winter solstice festival that was co-opted by the church and renamed "Christmas". But I mean, the Yule log, the tree, even Santa's red suit - that's all remnants of pagan worship, Dean."

Alex smirked, finishing off the first cookie and starting on the second. Dean scowled, then darted out a hand to grab one, only for her to jerk them out of his reach. "How do you know that? What are you gonna tell me next, Sammy?" He gave a sarcastic smirk. "Easter bunny suddenly Jewish?" Sam rolled his eyes, and Dean finally decided he was going to be serious again. "So you two think we're dealing with a pagan god?"

"If what I remember is correct," Alex murmured, "Then Hold Nickar, the god of the winter solstice. I'm not sure if I'm right though," she added when Sam glanced to her.

"No," Sam reassured, "That's what I was thinking." He clicked to another article on his laptop, continuing, "The wreaths are pretty much a neon sign on the front door that's begging the god to come and kill whoever put it up." He leaned forward, as if proximity with the machine would give him a better idea of what he was reading. "And when you sacrifice to Hold Nickar, guess what he gives you in return?"

"Lap dances, hopefully," Dean muttered.

"Mild weather," Sam corrected.

"Like no snow despite the fact that it's the middle of December in _Michigan_," Alex murmured, then tilted her head back thoughtfully. "But when we were checking these places out, I didn't smell anything like that. Mind you, the bloody wreaths' scents were clogging my sense of smell, but..."

"Anyways..." Sam shoved his laptop back onto the coffee table...just in time to nearly be kicked as Dean lunged for the final cookie in Alex's hand. Alex grinned as she easily dove off the couch, only to be practically tackled by Dean, pinned to the ground as he pried the cookie from her hands. "Nice try," he muttered to the skinwalker, stuffing the sweet in his mouth.

Alex squirmed underneath him, grunting. "Get off, you bloody idiot. I can't-" she cut off with a wheezing yelp when he moved off of her, making sure to purposely dig his knee in for a moment. "Ow! Damn it, Winchester!"

"Anyways," Sam repeated, ignoring the banter, "I think we should go find out if the wreaths are being sold on purpose, to feed the victims to the god."

"I agree," Alex said, rubbing her back as she stood. She shook her hair out, like a dog might do its fur, then pushed it out of her face with a pale hand. "Alright, fools. How do we kill it when we find it?"

"Bobby's looking into it," Sam replied confidently.

"I still need to meet him," Alex mused. "Oh, to hell with it all. Let's go find ourselves some wreath...sellers?" She paused, her "pep talk" cut off by her confusion over what to call those who specifically sold Christmas wreaths.

"Sounds 'bout right," Dean said with a shrug, brushing crumbs from his mouth.

Without another word, the trio ducked out of the motel room, locking it behind them. After a short spat between Sam and Alex that ended with the skinwalker scowling in the backseat of the Impala, they were well on their way to the shop they'd decided quickly to check out. Grumbling, Alex let her fingers trail along the black blade that was lined up on her arm, curiosity momentarily appearing on her features. _Hm...wonder if this thing kills gods, too...?_

It took them a mere twenty minutes to find the shop they were looking for. And when they did, Alex waved both of them off, climbing out of the car. "I've got this, boys. Dean will end up accusing you of being a girl again, Sam, and we don't have time for that if people are dying."

Alex, it appeared, had fallen into her serious mood. Ignoring the scowl that once again appeared on Dean's face alongside an irritation in his green eyes, she sauntered into the shop, practically humming to herself. The shopkeeper eyed her warily. "Can I help you?"

Alex gave him a charming smile. "I believe you can. Some friends and I were over at the Walshes' the other night, before that rather...sad thing happened, and my lovely friend can't shut up about the beautiful wreath they had. I would be very chuffed if you could tell me if it's in stock?"

"I don't know," the shopkeeper said, his eyes roving up and down her body. Alex fought back the urge to gag. The guy was _at least_ thirty to forty years out of her usual fun night range. "Describe the wreath you want?"

Okay. So the guy was...entertained by her. She could use that to her advantage though it disgusted her. Smirking, she leaned over the counter, letting her lithe form drape against it, well aware that her companions were probably watching from the Impala. There were, after all, windows on every wall of the store. "Green leaves. White buds. Made of meadow-sweet?"

"Ah," the shopkeeper said, giving her a grin. She struggled to _not_ make a face at the stench of tobacco that came from him. "I know which one you're talkin' about. We're all out."

Alex froze. She hadn't been expecting _that_. "Oh. Do you know who makes them, then?" She was back to fluttering her eyelashes at him in an instant, though she wasn't very happy to be doing so. At least she was getting more information out of him. Sam and Dean would have taken _forever_ and gotten a lot less information...

"Madge Carrigan, local lady," the shopkeeper responded eagerly. "Apparently they were so special, she gave 'em to me for free."

Alex arched her eyebrows, letting the light hit her blue eyes that gleamed with a fake innocence. "She didn't charge you?" He shook his head. "Did you sell them for free, sir?"

The shopkeeper smirked. "Hell no. Christmas time. People flock from everywhere to buy that crap."

Alex winked, rocking back on her heels. "I see. Thank you for that information, my kind sir." She didn't like the look in that man's eyes, so she nodded towards the waiting Impala, feeling a moment of gratitude that Dean didn't up and drive off without her. He followed her gaze, a look of disappointment crossing his face when she said, "My boyfriend, his brother, and I will look elsewhere then. Thank you for your time."

Oh, Dean was going to definitely try and kill her when he heard about this, Alex thought smugly as she practically danced out of the store, throwing herself happily into the back seat. "Sammy, got your lap top? Sam," she corrected with a sigh at the look they gave her. "Look up one Madge Carrigan. She's the maker of the wreaths."

As Sam set to work on looking the information up, Dean turned in his seat to look at her. "So how much do you think a meadow-sweet wreath is, anyways?"

"A couple hundred good ones, at least," Sam answered without looking up, still tapping away at the keyboard as he looked into the woman they were trying to find.

Dean contemplated this, shoving a hand through his hair and tugging thoughtfully at the amulet that hung from around his neck. "The lady's giving 'em away for free? What do you think about that?"

"Sounds suspicious to me," Alex murmured, zipping up her leather jacket with a thoughtful look. The trio fell into a comfortable silence until Dean suddenly spoke up again.

"Hey, Sammy." He nudged at his brother until Sam glanced up at him. "Remember that wreath Dad brought home that one year?"

"You mean the one he stole from a liquor store?" Sam said bluntly, shoving the laptop at Alex with a grudging look when he realized this was going to be a longer conversation. Alex gleefully set to work on looking Madge Carrigan up.

"Yeah," Dean said with a broad grin. "It was a bunch of empty beer cans. The thing was great. Bet if I looked around hard enough, I could find one just like it."

"Okay," Sam said after a moment of giving Dean a strange look. "What's going on with you?" Dean glanced questioningly at him, and he continued, "I mean, since when are you Bing Crosby all of a sudden, Dean? Why do you want to have Christmas so bad? You've never been this way before now."

Dean narrowed his eyes and smacked a hand impatiently on the wheel of his Impala. "Why are you so against it, damn it? Were the childhood memories I gave you _that_ traumatic?"

"Probably," Alex muttered, adding her thoughts in as she scanned the computer screen before her. "Seriously. I'd be worried about his head if I hadn't seen the way he hunts sometimes. Especially with you hanging around all the time when you two were kids."

Both chose to ignore the skinwalker, and Sam shook his head in answer to his brother's question. "Then what?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sam said with a muffled voice, "I just...I don't get it, Dean. You haven't talked about having a Christmas in years."

"Well, yeah. This is my last year."

The mood in the car quite suddenly became sullen, and Alex paused in typing on the laptop, deciding that the noise wasn't good for the situation that had suddenly arisen. "That's why I can't," Sam said quietly, "I can't just sit around drinking eggnog and pretending everything's okay. Not when I know you'll be dead next Christmas."

They three fell into a silence for a few moments after Dean acknowledged his words. But Alex suddenly gave a triumphant cry. "Ha! Found her! Madge Carrigan, only a few miles south of here. Why don't we take a second to go check her out?"

Sam latched onto the way out of a depressing moment. "Definitely. Come on, Dean, we've got a god to find."

Dean merely shook his head, what looked like disappointment on his face as he started the Impala again and pulled out of the parking lot.

* * *

><p>Eying the large white house before them, decorated from top to bottom in Christmas decorations, Alex gave a soft huff. "Huh. So this is where the creator of the meadow-sweet wreaths lives, huh?"<p>

Dean snorted. "Can't you just _feel_ the evil pagan vibe, Alex?"

She shoved at him, then loped up to the door with Sam and Dean close behind her, each with a hidden gun at the smalls of their backs. Dean lightly pushed past Alex, placing his hands on her shoulders to move her out of the way before knocking. It only took a few moments for a woman to answer the door. "Yes?"

Dean gave her his signature charming grin, the smile that usually worked on women at the bar. "Please tell me you're the Madge Carrigan who makes the meadow-sweet wreaths."

She beamed, glancing at Alex, who was staring sharply at her, as if suspicious of something. "Why, yes I am."

"Ha!" Dean said smugly, "Bingo."

"We were just admiring your wreaths in Mr. Sylar's place the other day," Alex lied sweetly, trying to get the woman's attention off of her face. Madge commented on something about meadow-sweet, and she flashed pearly whites at the woman. "It smells lovely. Problem is...the your wreaths are sold out. We didn't get the chance to but one. Do you happen to have any more we could buy from you?"

Madge shook her head, letting a sigh escape her. "Well, fudge. Oh, I'm afraid they were the only ones I had for this season..."

"Tell me something," Dean said suddenly. Sam gave him a warning look, especially when a man began to descend the stairs. "Why did you decide to make the wreaths out of meadow-sweet, Mrs. Carrigan?"

"Why, the smell of course!" Madge said firmly. "There's nothing that's every smelled finer."

Sam gave a tight smile. "Yeah, you've mentioned that."

"What's going on, honey?" Madge's husband questioned, squinting at the trio of hunters that studied them with an equally wary look on their faces. "These young ones bothering you?"

"Just some nice kids asking about my wreaths, dear," Madge said with a kind voice, shooting them a bright smile that was just a hint too fake for Alex's liking. Nevertheless, she kept quiet, not wanting to say anything.

"Oh, the wreaths are fine," he said with a smile. "Fine wreaths. Peanut brittle?"

As Dean reached for one and Sam frowned, smacking his hand away and telling the Carrigans that they were fine, Alex peered into the house, inhaling sharply. Two particular scents caught her attention, but she chose to not mention them for the moment. She knew exactly who the gods were now. But saying such things in front of said gods wouldn't do them much good...

* * *

><p>Alex sucked on her thumb with a wince as Dean sharpened a wooden stake over a trashcan that barely caught any shavings, attempting to work out a sliver she'd gotten while helping him. Nearby, Sam used his laptop, narrowing his eyes at the screen. "I'm telling you bloody fools," she muttered, "Vervain and mint. Not holly."<p>

"Yeah, I noticed that," Sam muttered, then smirked, clapping his hands together. "Ha! Knew it! Something was way off with those two!"

Dean paused, knife held just above the wooden stake. "What'd you find?"

Reading off the laptop, Sam said smugly, "The Carrigans lived in Seattle last year, where two abductions took place right around Christmas. Soon as Christmas ends, they move here. All of that Christmas stuff in their house...just like Alex said. That wasn't boughs of holly. Vervain and mint."

"Definitely serious pagan stuff," Alex murmured, grinning when she succeeded at finally removing her sliver. She snatched up another piece of wood, picking up her black blade to begin sharpening it.

"So...what?" Dean asked, glaring at Alex when shavings ended up on his sleeve. "Ozzie and Harriet are keeping a god underneath the plastic-covered couch?"

Alex lightly kicked at him. "Who knows," she teased, "Maybe they've got him hidden in a bloody cabinet under the stairs." Blank looks had her grumbling under her breath about their lack of British literature knowledge later, she muttered, "So what about that friend of yours? He positively sure stakes of evergreen wood will kill it?"

Dean examined his sharpened stake. "Pretty sure, sounds like." He stood up, shrugging his shoulders slowly before beginning to gather up their sharpened stakes. Alex quickly finished with the one she was working on, then began to help him pick them up with a soft sigh. Sam shut his laptop and set it aside before coming over to help them out, stuffing the stakes into a backpack he'd dumped out on a motel bed. Counting them to make sure they each had at least three, the trio were finally prepared to head out on the actual hunt.

"Time to find out if my blade wins against pagan gods," Alex said smugly, letting the blade shimmer into view for a brief moment before it vanished again. "If not, you guys had better be ready to back me up, because I'm screwed otherwise."

Dean rolled his eyes. "There's a reason we're going in with the stakes, Alex. Screw the sword thing and go at them with what kills 'em for certain."

"And I need to see what this thing's completely good against, sorry to disappoint you." Alex spoke smugly, glaring challengingly at both of them. Dean just sighed and lifted his eyes to the sky before muttering, "Do whatever the hell you want." Sam shrugged before heading out to the Impala. Much to their relief, the neighborhood wasn't too far away, but not too close either, and Alex found herself dozing off in the back of the Impala as Dean drove.

Sam glanced back at the very lightly napping Alex, then glanced at Dean, who was staring at the road with his pre-hunt face on. "...Dean."

"Yo," Dean answered, glancing over his shoulder at the road behind them before shifting lanes.

"Still thinking the skinwalker is a bad idea?" Sam smirked knowingly when Dean shot him a glare. "Come on, you don't mind not taking as much time to find out what we're up against most of the time."

"No, I don't," Dean admitted, rubbing a hand down his face. "It means less people die. But she's...I dunno. What we've hunted for too long to trust. I wouldn't count on her with my life if I had the choice, but she's...I dunno, nice?"

"Thanks for that," a hard voice interrupted their conversation. Sam cursed under his breath, looking over his shoulder to see a pair of icy blue eyes glaring viciously at the two. "Really," Alex snapped, "Thanks. Because I haven't already proven myself time and time again, right?" She scowled. "See if I help you two when you decide to faff around and get yourself stuck in some kind of situation. See if I'm _nice_."

"Alex," Sam protested, but Dean had already pulled onto the opposite side of the street and she was quickly climbing out, slamming the door furiously behind her. "Damn it, Dean."

"Hey, don't go pointing fingers at me," he muttered, climbing out and leaving Sam to follow suit. By the time they'd reached the front door, Alex was already nearly done picking the lock, her face an emotionless mask as she did so. Sam shoved a stake into Dean's hands as she got the door open. Without a word to either of them, she entered the house as silent as ever.

"See?" Dean muttered as they passed the couch, still covered in plastic. "Plastic."

"Shut it, Winchester, before you wake the residents," Alex said icily, shooting him a look that often scared most of what she hunted. But he merely ignored it, heading into the living room. She kept close to Sam despite the urge to smack him around a few times, and she peered around the hall as they walked through, noting all of the ornaments and snow globes. They made their way into the kitchen, where there were multiple plates of cookies and cakes. "Here," he muttered, nodding at a lock on a door that he kept his flashlight on. "Dean!" he called softly.

Ignoring the fact that Sam wanted to wait for his brother, Alex picked the lock with just as much ease as she'd picked the first one and ducked into it, making her way down a flight of stairs and into the basement. Dean pointed his flashlight around after joining her, and both grimaced at the sight of blood-soaked bones in a large bowl.

"Ugh," Alex moaned under her breath, covering her nose and gagging. "Yuck. Smells more like that haunted butchery I looked into back home." She examined a blood stain on a wall.

"Hey, check this out," Sam muttered, discovering a leather bag almost as slicked with blood as the bones. He made a disgusted face, then moved on to another bag that he found hanging from the wall. Curious, he took a stake and poked it...then jumped back with a yelp when someone flailed inside of it, shouting desperately. An instant later, Sam whirled around to come face to face with Madge, who simply smiled and grabbed him around the throat, lifting him off the ground.

Dean whirled around, Alex hot on his heels as he shouted Sam's name. Glowering furiously as Madge pushed Sam up against a wall, holding him there despite the fact that he was prying at her fingers, Dean darted over, ready to stake Madge. Despite his attempt, however, Mr. Carrigan suddenly appeared, grabbing his arm and twisting it sharply behind him, slamming his head against a wall so that the hunter went down in a heap.

Wary, her gaze flicking from Mr. Carrigan to Sam to Madge, Alex snatched up the stake that Dean had been attacking with. "Gosh," Madge sighed, a fake pout on her face as she frowned, "I wish you kids hadn't come down here."

Alex was momentarily distracted when Sam's flashlight flashed across their faces, revealing monster-like appearances that returned to normal when the light wasn't there. Huffing, Madge gave a particularly hard shove to knock out Sam as well. "Lovely, just lovely," the skinwalker muttered furiously, "I wasn't joking when I said I'd leave ya guys if we got into a nasty situation, but this soon?" She glanced towards the stairs.

That glance was all they needed. In a flash, Alex was on the ground, Madge atop her with a hand at her throat and a vicious smirk on her face. "Now, now," she chimed softly, "I don't think that's necessary..."

Flailing, Alex attempted to free herself for a brief moment, then gave up, silently glaring up at Madge.

Curse the lack of luck she had!

Madge sighed, dragging the skinwalker to her feet despite Alex's hiss of pain when she jerked so roughly on Alex's wrist that there was a sharp pop. _Dislocated,_ Alex thought with a sigh, ignoring the pain with her hands up in surrender as she was forced upstairs again. Dean and Sam, she noticed, were being dealt with differently. Mr. Carrigan didn't seem to have a single issue throwing both over his shoulder as he ascended the steps.

"Stand right there, honey," Madge said charmingly, though there was a malicious tint to her smile. She dragged three chairs over from a dining set, then nodded for her husband to set the unconscious Winchesters there. Within minutes, they were tied up alongside Alex, who simply scowled irritably, waiting for the two to wake up.

Madge and her husband left the room for a little bit after setting up a series of bowls and a knife on the dining table, and Alex found herself sitting there alone with them. Tilting her head back with a sigh of relief, she carefully tried to swing her head around at Sam, who was closest to her. She managed to just barely knock against his shoulder, but it was enough for hm to stir, and a moment later, both were awake again.

"Dean?" Sam demanded, trying to peer over his shoulder. "You okay?"

"Fine," Dean grunted, flexing his hands in an attempt to test the ropes. "Miss Pouty over here must be happy. Got what we supposedly deserved."

Alex pretended not to hear that, desperately wanted to swing her leg around and kick him where it hurt. The Carrigans chose then to come back into the kitchen, now dressed in colorful Christmas-themed sweaters that made Alex want to gag at their sense of style. Perhaps she could change her occupation to teaching the latest fashions to the elderly...

"Ooh," Madge crooned, "And here we thought you two lazybones were going to sleep straight through all the fun stuff and leave the missy here to watch."

Dean gave a sarcastic snort, smirking. "And miss all this? Nah, we're partyers."

"You're so dead, Winchester," Alex spat under her breath as Mr. Carrigan commented on them being hunters and smoked his pipe.

"Shut it," Dean growled back before saying aloud, "And you're pagan gods. So. Why don't we just call it even and go our separate ways, eh? What do you say?"

Yep. Alex wanted to kick him for his stupidity. Mr. Carrigan threw his head back and laughed. "What, so you can bring more of you and kill us? I don't think so."

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you went snacking on humans," Sam said coldly, glaring with as much irritation as Alex felt at the moments towards just about everything.

Madge sighed. "Oh, why, we used to take over a hundred tributes a year. That's a fact." Humming under her breath, she placed a napkin on Dean's lap as she glanced at Mr. Carrigan. "Now what do we take? What...two? Three?" She did the same for Sam, placing one on his lap. Alex she regarded thoughtfully before putting the third napkin back on the table.

"Hunters here make six," Mr. Carrigan said smugly. "That's not so bad, is it?"

"Well, you say it like that..." Dean muttered. "Guess you guys are the Cunninghams..."

Mr. Carrigan narrowed his eyes. "You, mister, better show us a little respect."

"Or what," Sam muttered.

"You're going to eat us?" Alex finished sarcastically.

"Oh, that's a lovely idea, but not so fast," Madge said with a bright, beaming smile. "There's rituals to be followed first,a nd we're just sticklers for ritual, aren't we dear?" Mr. Carrigan nodded his agreement to that statement and Alex stuck her tongue out in disgust. Without a hint of that, Madge popped the girl's chin sharply so that she bit it, making Alex yelp and glare at her. "And you know what kicks everything off?"

"Let me guess...meadow-sweet," Dean gritted out, glancing over to see what had been done to Alex. But he couldn't see at the position he'd been put at and glowered irritably at the fact. "Oh, but you're all out of wreaths. Guess we'll have to just cancel the sacrifice, huh?"

Madge pouted. "Oh, don't be so gloomy. There," she added as she put wreaths around the Winchester brothers' necks. There. Oh, don't they just look darling?"

Mr. Carrigan smacked his lips, grinning. "Good enough to eat. Alright. Step number two."

Alex glanced back, nervous. Why the hell wasn't a wreath being put on her neck, too? That answer was given when Madge simply twirled her chair so that she was facing the Winchesters and drug slightly away. "Don't want to stain the dessert," she purred.

Mr. Carrigan nodded his agreement to that. "Nope." Alex watched with wide eyes as he grabbed a knife and bowl from the table and walked around Dean to Sam. Immediately, as he held the bowl under Sam's arm in preparation to cut him with the knife, Dean tried to wrench himself around. "Sam?! Sammy?!"

Sam clenched his jaw, eyes flashing with pain when Mr. Carrigan sliced into Sam's arm, collecting the blood that dripped in a bowl. Finally, he couldn't hold back all sound and let out a gasp of pain.

Dean's gaze darkened furiously. "Leave him alone, you son of a bitch," he snarled, and Alex tied to kick at Mr. Carrigan as he passed her with the bowl and knife to hand it over to his wife.

"Hear how they talk to us?" Mr. Carrigan sighed, "To gods? Listen, pal." He turned his gaze onto Dean, no smile existing now. "Back in the day? We were worshipped by millions." When Dean snarled something about changing times, he answered with a huff. "Tell me about it. All of a sudden, this Jesus character is the new hot thing in town. Our alters are being burned down and we're being hunted down like common monsters."

Madge scowled. "But did we say a peep? No, we didn't." She held the bowl as Mr. Carrigan added something to the blood within it, then smiled as he picked up a tool. "Two millennium. We kept a low profile; we got jobs, a mortgage. What was that word dear?"

"We assimilated."

"Yes, we assimilated," Madge repeated. "Why, we play bridge on Tuesday and Fridays. We're just like everybody else." Alex bit back a snarl at that comment, her eyes flashing, and Madge shot her a look. "Oh, hush, little skinwalker. You'll be able to join in soon." She turned to Dean, holding the knife in her hand. "This might pinch a bit, dear." She leaned closer, then sliced down his arm in the same way Mr. Carrigan had done to Sam. Dean yelped in pain, cursing violently underneath his breath.

"Oh," Madge gasped, "My goodness me! Somebody owes a nickel to the swear jar. Do you know what I say when I feel like saying such things?" She leaned close until he met her gaze. "Fudge."

Dean gritted out something that Alex couldn't figure out, but Mr. Carrigan began to speak again anyhow. "You boys have no idea how lucky you are." He returned to standing in front of Sam, a tool held in his hand. "There was a time when kids came from miles around, just to be sitting where you are."

Alex's face went white as she realized just how panicked Sam was growing. "What do you think you're doing with those?" he demanded as Mr. Carrigan smiled.

Dean scowled. "You fudging touch me again, bitch, I dare you."

Madge frowned. "Not quite enough..." She sliced Dean's other arm, and the man groaned in pain while her husband grabbed Sam's hand, situating the tool just right before setting to work on pulling the nail from Sam's index finger, and Sam cried out. Where Alex usually would have made comments about them being men, she bit back a whimper. There was just a point, she decided, where putting on a brave front didn't matter anymore.

Mr. Carrigan added the nail to the bowl. "Oh, we got a winner!" he said cheerfully, then counted off on his fingers as to what they'd collected. "Fingernail, blood..." He suddenly laughed. "Oh, we forgot the tooth!"

Panting for breath, Dean muttered, "Merry Christmas, Sammy!"

"Shut up," the younger of the brothers gasped back.

Alex shook her head, trying to kick out again desperately as Mr. Carrigan picked up pliers and grabbed Dean's chin. "Open wide and say "ah"." Dean looked like he wanted to say a few other choice words, and Alex screwed her eyes shut. There went "sexy guy's" looks!

But suddenly, the doorbell rang.

Never before had Dean been so happy to hear a doorbell ring. With the pliers in his mouth, he hurried to say, "Somebody wanna get that? You should get that. Bad neighborly manners to leave the doorbell ringing."

The two gods exchanged a wary look before Mr. Carrigan sighed. "Take care of the door, I'll join you in a moment."

Alex went wide-eyed as Mr. Carrigan walked over to where she was still tied up, grabbing the chair she was in. "Hey," she protested, thrashing in the chair against the ropes. She tested them desperately, letting her blade ripple into existence, but it was useless; the angle of the ropes against her wrist didn't allow for it to cut through. Admittedly terrified, Alex was dragged around a corner - and placed near a stove with searing hot heat that blasted from it. "What is this," she gasped, "Hansel and Gretel?!"

Distantly, they heard the sounds of Madge greeting a friendly neighbor that requested they go caroling with her, but Alex didn't bother to listen for details. She was too busy struggling to escape the heat that blasted over her. Mr. Carrigan patted her head with a fake cheerful smile. "Now, now. Won't be too long, wait here." He left, and Alex decided moments later that she had mere minutes before she was pushed into an oven like the witch in the fairy tale. Trying to ignore the blistering heat, she squirmed, panting for breath - until Dean suddenly came running into view, passing by the secondary kitchen. Alex gave a desperate call, and he backtracked, staring at her with surprise.

"The hell are you doing there?" he muttered darting over to set to work on the knots of the rope that tied her down. There was a loud crash, and he glanced up, yelling, "Sammy?"

"Still good here," Sam called back, much to Alex's relief. She hadn't been serious when she'd spoken in the car, she decided with relief. She'd even apologize at this point. With Dean's help, she was soon reeling away from the large oven, shuddering when cool air met her face once again. "Thanks," she told him, then darted over when Sam yelped, intending to help him keep the door shut. Dean joined them. "What do we do?" Alex demanded as one of the Carrigans slammed into the door. "The stakes were left where we dropped them."

Sam glanced at the Christmas tree nearby. "I think we have our evergreen...Alex, can you keep the door?"

"Got it," she said firmly, smiling faintly as it was slammed into again. "At least I think I do."

Sam and Dean waited until another slam was over before darting over to the tree, shoving it over and setting to work on breaking branches off of it, moving as swiftly as they could. Alex narrowed her eyes suspiciously when the slamming stopped. Just as suddenly, she was slammed into the ground by a practically snarling Madge, who knelt over her with a twisted expression. "I loved that tree."

Dean and Sam raised their stakes, gazes flicking from Madge to Mr. Carrigan, who proceeded to launch himself at Dean, landing a solid blow on his jaw. Dean grunted as he was slammed down, Mr. Carrigan delivering several harsh blows to his face. Madge transferred her grip to Alex's throat, and Alex wheezed as she tried to pry her hand off. "Sam," she gasped, desperately waving her hand for a stake. Sam tossed her it and she somehow managed to catch it, reaching up and plunging it into Madge's back. Madge screamed, and distracted, Mr. Carrigan jerked around. "Madge!"

Dean took his chance and shoved him off, quickly using his own stake to kill the other pagan god. Within a matter of moments, the Carrigans lay there dead, both lying beside each other. All three panting for air, Alex sounding louder due to a wheeze that came along with nearly being strangled, they exchanged looks. "Merry Christmas," Sam managed to get out past a near crazed grin on his face.

Dean just shook his head and scrubbed a hand down his face. "Yeah, Sammy," he muttered. "Merry Christmas. Just what we wanted to celebrate."

Alex simply gave a tired wave. "To bloody hell with all of it. Let's go get drinks. My treat. Promise." Dean gave her a suspicious look and she rolled her eyes. "Not lying, Winchester. Drinks. On me. Merry bloody Christmas."

An ornament continued to spin on the broken branches of a destroyed Christmas tree.

* * *

><p><strong>(AN)**

**And...extremely large and day late Christmas chapter. |D From now on, there are going to be a few episodes in the fanfiction. Quite fun to twist it so that Alex is in there, I've figured out. ;)**

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews:<strong>

**wideawakepastmidnight:** First things first: love the username, 'cause it totally applies to just about every fanfiction person ever. XD I'm glad you like Alex; she's definitely the top character on my favorites of my OCs. ;)


End file.
